Time and Time Again
by Lilly42
Summary: Sequel to One Time too Many..written with my coauthor Nancy. Further consequences for Starsky and Hutch from one moment in time. mild language, some violence. Reviews will help!


Time and Time Again

By L & N Enterprises

Detective Hutchison watched as the scenery passed by. A furtive glance over to his partner who was driving still showed that Starsky was on edge. The two had been riding in unaccustomed silence. Hutch considered their silence and all the types of silences there can be…awkward, stony, astonished, devastating, companionable silence...He decided this was just an ...unnatural silence. Another glance over at Starsky showed him as wound up as a tiger about to spring. Hutch sighed.

With the sigh, Starsky flinched. He was so tense that even small noises set him off. He felt his partner's close watch and it made him even edgier. It had been a week, but things were getting worse instead of better. The shooting team had cleared him after he relayed his simple story. The man was threatening his wife with a gun. Starsky had entered the daycare through the basement. When confronted, the perp had shot once at him before Starsky took him down. No one had asked for further details and Starsky hadn't shared them. Only he and Hutch knew what had really happened those few seconds before he had shot the gunman. Starsky remembered looking into the eyes of the gunman, those eyes that had frozen him with their specter of death; only the gunman's own shot had broken him from the icy fear.

Starsky gripped the steering wheel tighter. With every intrusive memory, his stomach rolled and he felt waves of nausea. He still couldn't accept that he had frozen. He also squirmed as he recalled how he had broken down later with Hutch and sobbed in fear. Hutch had been there for him as he always was, but Starsky felt embarrassed when he revealed his fear. Even though Hutch had told him that it was okay and just let himself feel the fear, Starsky still couldn't accept what happened. Now back on the beat and in the street, he couldn't relax.

Fear was following him on a daily basis. Starsky had known fear before...hell, every time he pulled out his gun, he felt it, knowing that he was risking his and others' lives. But this was a different type of fear...a doubting fear...uncertain as to what would happen and how he would react, Starsky had been getting through each day filled with dread over the next call...maybe the call that would put them in the line of fire. Fortunately, the week had been quiet but Starsky knew the potential was always there. As he struggled with his fear through the week, he felt himself pull away from Hutch. If he couldn't face himself, how could he let Hutch in?

Their silence was suddenly broken as the radio squawked... "Zebra –Three, 2-11 in progress at the Happy Hour Liquor Store, 12th and Alameda. Reports of shots fired. Additional units responding."

Hutch snatched the mike from its hook and responded, "Ten-Four, Zebra-Three." even as he slammed the magnetic mars light atop the red Torino.

Instinct took over as Starsky pressed his foot to the floor and the powerful engine roared. His body was reacting as if everything was standard operating procedure, but his mind was already starting to freeze with panic. He found himself anticipating the situation they'd encounter – one of the first things he knew he should NEVER do. To anticipate would prejudice his assessment of the situation when they arrived, but in his minds' eye he could already see the perpetrator and his weapon -- and they were identical to those from the daycare center.

"Turn left here!" Hutch pointed, and Starsky cranked the wheel, sending them into a sideways slide around the corner. A few more blocks and they were at the location.

The two detectives scrambled from the car almost before it had stopped moving. Hutch ran to crouch behind one of the cars in the lot, and Starsky slid in behind a trash bin nearer to the door. He quickly popped his head up for a look inside the store.

From his vantage point he could see a man holding a handgun as the clerk fumbled with the register. He tried to get a look at as much of the interior as possible, but pulled his head back quickly when he saw the gunman's head turn. His heart was suddenly in his throat and he clenched his eyes shut against the rising panic. Had the man seen him? Was he about to shoot through the flimsy metal of the container?

"Starsk!" Hutch's voice hissed at him from across the lot. "How many?"

Starsky opened his eyes, and swallowed hard. He held up one finger – it shook visibly.

"When he comes out…" Hutch whispered loudly, getting into position.

His partner nodded and tried to steady his gun in his hands.

Moments later, the gunman ran from the store, heading toward the car Hutch was using as a shield. In a split second, Starsky was standing, his weapon aimed at the fleeing man. "STOP RIGHT THERE! POLICE!" he shouted.

The man turned, his gun aimed directly at Starsky, who realized his worst nightmare as once again he found himself looking into a gunman's eyes, unable to react. Hutch had leapt to his feet and run the few steps it took to get into position and even as the gunman turned to fire at Starsky, Hutch's bullet found it's mark in the man's upper back. He staggered forward and fell in a widening pool of blood.

Before either of the detectives could move toward the man, however, another round of shots rang out as a second gunman fled the store. Hutch dove for cover once again, but cried out as one of the bullets embedded itself in his thigh. He rolled behind the car and grabbed his leg where the pain seared through it.

Starsky's gaze locked on the spot where Hutch had disappeared, forgetting for a moment that the second gunman existed. He took a half-step toward the shielding car even as two black and whites screeched to a halt in the parking lot. The first car hadn't stopped moving when the patrolman rolled out, absorbing the shock of the blow as he hit the ground with his shoulder before falling onto his stomach and taking aim at the gunman. With a single, clean shot, the patrolman took the second gunman down.

The second shot broke through Starsky's consciousness like a blast. While the officers began their cautious approach to the shooters' bodies, Starsky raced to his partner's side. "GET AN AMBULANCE!" he screamed. "NOW!"

He fell to his knees beside the grimacing Hutchinson, pulled him into a sitting position, leaning him against himself. Frantically, he urged his partner, "Hutch! Hang in there, buddy! Ambulance is on its way… just hold on."

Hutch's eyes were starting to glaze as he looked up at his partner, "It-it's not that bad." He tried to reassure Starsky, recognizing the terror that filled the dark-haired detective's face, but speaking cost him the last of his strength, and he lost consciousness.

"I'm so sorry, Hutch… I'm so sorry…." Starsky sobbed as he held his best friend in his arms.

It seemed an eternity, but the paramedics were there, pushing Starsky out of the way as they started to work on Hutchison. The shot had nicked an artery and he was loosing a lot of blood. Normally, Starsky would be badgering incessantly and crowding around, but he felt overwhelming guilt and stayed out of the paramedics' way. He didn't stray far though as he watched them work…his own helplessness consumed him while he was engulfed in his guilt _Please God, let him be okay….how could I have done this to him…I'm such a damn coward_… His thoughts were interrupted as the paramedics finally finished stabilizing his partner and placed him in the back of the ambulance.

Starsky approached them, "Hey, its it okay if I ride in the back with him? He's my partner," he added simply.

The efficient paramedic briefly stopped his preparations in the ambulance as he glanced down at the detective, "Don't see why not, but he's still out and likely to be so for a while"

Starsky nodded and flushed under the paramedic's gaze, irrationally convinced that all knew his guilt and was looking at him with contempt. Feeling heavy, he pulled himself up and into the back of the waiting ambulance.

The next two hours passed slowly as Starsky was relegated to wait in the meditation room while they worked on his partner. He had made the call to their Captain who had hurried down to the hospital. Captain Dobey was a large man whose blusterous demeanor hid a soft heart and touch. He tried to corral his maverick detectives with a steady but light rein. All too often however he found himself commiserating side by side with one of them over the hurt and injuries of the other.

The two men sat in silence; Starsky had given his Captain the bare outline of what had happened. He'd been too upset to tell him the details of how he'd let Hutch down. He knew that it would eventually have to come out, but not now, not till he knew how Hutch was doing.

Suddenly, the doors opened and out came a young, female physician. Her face looked fatigued, but did not hold the countenance of someone bringing bad news. She walked up to the two men as she asked, "Gentlemen? I'm Dr. Mackey I understand your waiting to hear news about Mr. Hutchison?"

Both men jumped to their feet as Starsky hurriedly acknowledged her greeting. His voice desperate, "Yes, I'm Dave Starsky, his partner, and this here is Captain Dobey. How's Hutch doing?"

Dr. Mackey smiled as she relayed the good news, "Gentlemen, your friend is going to be just fine. The bullet did nick an artery and he did lose a lot of blood. We were a little worried there, but he came through the surgery well. He'll definitely be off his feet for a few days, but I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't walking around on crutches next week".

Both men sagged from relief. Starsky turned away for a split second to wipe away the tears that suddenly filled his eyes again. Hutch was safe.

Dobey followed up by asking, "Can we see him now?"

The doctor nodded, "Yes, he's in Room 404, but one at a time, please, and not for too long. Your friend has had a long day. I'd like him to get some rest. If you'll excuse me, I need to attend to some other patients".

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much." Dobey told her, taking her hand into his.

"You're welcome," she smiled, and nodded goodbye, walking away down another hall.

Captain Dobey looked over at Starsky," Well, don't just stand there. Don't you want to do the honors of going in first?"

Uncharacteristically, Starsky hesitated. Normally, he couldn't have been stopped, but the feeling of guilt had soon followed his relief at the doctor's news. Would Hutch even want to see him? After all, if it hadn't been for him, Hutch wouldn't even be here. With this thought, Starsky felt panicky, and shook his head as he replied, "Captain, why don't you go in first? It has been a long day – you should go ahead."

Puzzled, the gruff police captain stared at Starsky. He was totally shocked that Starsky was giving him the lead to visit Hutch. Their closeness was such that he wouldn't have been surprised if Starsky had bolted for Hutch's room as soon as Dr. Mackey had told them the number. Dobey felt confused, but he respected his detective enough to not challenge him at this moment. Maybe he was still shook up from the shooting. In any case, one of them needed to go in so he simply acknowledged, "Okay, Starsky. I'll only be five minutes. I 'll see you in a few". With that, he walked away and entered Hutchison's room.

Captain Dobey held his breath as he looked over the injured detective. Hutch with his blond hair and fair features appeared as pale as the moon from his ordeal and loss of blood. The detective felt someone in the room and groggily began to open his eyes as he called out, "Starsk?"

Dobey cleared his throat, "Uh, no. He's outside. They're only letting us in one at a time. He'll be in soon"

Feeling awkward and helpless at the prospect of his injured man and uncomfortable over Starsky's response, Dobey felt an unexplainable urge to cover for him, "I pulled rank. How are you feeling?'

Hutch opened his eyes fully and gave his superior a slight smirk, "I'm okay, Captain. The doc says though it may be quite a while before I can be released for even light duty"

His captain snorted. "Then we didn't talk to the same doc!" Both men smiled and in that smile, they silently exchanged their concern and appreciation. Dobey shuffled awkwardly on his feet, "Well, I'd better let that partner of yours in here before he breaks the rules. Don't need any more trouble for one day. I'll stop by tomorrow. Get some rest-- and that's an order!"

"Thanks, Cap"

With a nod goodbye, Dobey turned and left the room. Starsky was still few feet away. He'd been pacing. Despite his relief at his partner's well being, he was filled with dread over having to see the disappointment in Hutch's eyes. He knew he couldn't avoid it; he owed Hutch that much and more, but it felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

Dobey paused a second, taking in Starsky's agitated state. He informed him gently, "He's asking for you. Need anything else?"

Starsky broke from his reverie. "Uh, no captain. Thanks for everything. I'll check in with you tomorrow. I'll give my full report then, I promise"

"All right. But be sure to come in. I know how you feel with everything going on with Hutch, but with a double shooting, I 'm going to have the commissioner down on my tail – let's get this wrapped up neat, Ok?" Dobey waited for Starsky's nod of acknowledgement before saying goodnight and leaving the hospital.

Starsky watched his captain's retreating back before turning and facing Room 404. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Starsky reached to open the door and plastered a cheerful smile on his face.

"Hey, buddy, how are you doing?"

Normally Hutch would be tempted to milk his injury; he was hurting, but he knew it wasn't that bad. Still, one glance at his partner, even through the fog of his fatigue and pain, revealed that Starsky was emotionally wrung out.

He reassured him, "I told you, it's not bad. I'll be back outshining you on the dance floor in no time" he joked.

Starsky smiled feebly back as he half-heartedly responded to the jibe, "Well, you couldn't before. What did the doc do – sew on a new leg?" His face turned serious as he sat next to his partner. It was hard to meet his eyes, but he had to tell him, "Hutch, I'm sorry I let you down..I'm so sorry".

Hutch frowned perplexed, "What the hell you talking about? Starsk, these things happen. You know that.'

"I failed you. I swear I didn't see the second perp…and then the shooting…"

"Damn, Starsk, it was confusing. The perp was just a little faster. That's all and with everything that was going on. You're not seeing it clearly. You can't be blaming yourself!" Hutch was getting agitated as he realized that Starsky was holding himself responsible for everything.

Starsky was about to argue further, but then realized how wound up Hutch was getting. He remembered the doctor's admonishment about letting Hutch rest. This scene was the last thing Hutch needed.

He appeased him, "Ok, Ok. Buddy, just relax and take it easy, it was an accident, Ok?'

Hutch began to sit back and relax. He felt so tired, but he wanted his partner there.

"Stay a while?"

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere. You just take it easy". Starsky adjusted the covers and dimmed the light. He then sat next to the bed watching his partner drift off to sleep, feeling a profound sadness. He knew that when Hutch was feeling better, he'd have to tell him the truth. And about the decision that he'd already made.

Four days later found Hutchison sitting comfortably on his bed in his apartment. His leg was propped up with several fluffy pillows. Magazine and books were strewn around on the bed. He watched bemusedly as Starsky wheeled in his TV from the living room.

Starsky continued to fiddle with the antennae as he declared, "There! You're all set, see I've got it adjusted and everything!" Another light tap finally cleared the screen for the local baseball game.

Hutch smiled back at him, "It's great. Starsky. You've done more than enough for me. Now, just go and relax a little, ok? You're making me tireder just watching you."

Starsky barely acknowledged this as he continued to fuss around the room. He suddenly snapped his fingers and began to turn towards the kitchen, "Listen. I know, I'll make you one of your special goat milk milkshakes. You just stay right there"

As he started to walk away, Hutch stopped him with a gesture, "Hey, hold on Starsk. I'm fine. I don't need anything more. Why don't you sit down for a moment? By the way, – how long did Captain Dobey let you off the hook? I can't believe he's been so generous. Don't you have to be getting back to the station?"

With this statement, Starsky paused for a long moment. It was time. He finally had to tell Hutch what was going on. He had tried to avoid it by coming up with a million tasks large and small to put if off, but he knew that his partner had to know. Starsky slowly turned around and sat down next to his partner as he softly replied,

"Well that's just it Hutch, I'm not going back."

Hutch drew back in surprise, as he demanded, "What's that supposed to mean? That's not funny!"

Starsky shook his head gently as he continued resolutely, "It's not supposed to be funny. I can't do it Hutch. Not like this. Not the way I am now."

Hutch's face began to flush with anger as he argued, "Starsk you're way over-reacting to all that's going on. What happened was not your fault! You have to know that!"

In response, Starsky voice began to elevate, "Hutch, YOU know and I know what happened. I froze. It's a damned miracle that I didn't get you permanently maimed or….or killed." Starsky's voice broke and he finished in a softer voice. "I can't live with that. Not now . Not ever."

Watching the pain flash over his partner's face, Hutchison felt out of his depth. He knew how stubborn his partner could be and he had never seen him in such an intense dejection. He recognized now how much of a front that his partner had been putting on over the past few days. Starsky was more of an actor than Hutch ever realized. Grasping for solutions, his own fear of losing his partner growing in the pit of his stomach, he pleaded, "If its bothering you that much, then talk to someone. How about Dr. Meyer? He could help."

Starsky again shook his head and his whole posture slumped in defeat. The anger was fading as he faced his intense hurt. "Hutch, be real. If talking to you, my best friend, the person who knows me better than anyone in the world can't help, then how's talking to some shrink gonna cure my cowardice. Face it. I just can't hack it anymore. "

He chewed on his lip as he looked earnestly over at his partner. His face was pensive as he pondered, "Anyway, I'm not so sure I want do it anymore. Hutch, maybe this has been building up for some time. I mean, you were right about the daycare shooting. Remember when you said that maybe I had just had an overload of being in danger. Well, maybe that's true, maybe I have had enough of getting shot at, stabbed, kidnapped, poisoned. All for what? Time and time again, I go out there – putting my butt on line- for what? To die in some dirty alley because I wasn't fast enough or I was a little distracted? It just doesn't add up anymore!"

Hutch looked at his partner helplessly. Starsky was being unreasonably hard on himself. He knew that the events of the past few weeks had taken a lot from his friend, but being a cop was Starsky's heart and soul. He couldn't just let him walk away so he argued determinedly, "Yeah, and that's enough 'maybes' to fill a hornets nest. Starsky, you're a cop and a good one. You can't walk away from it!"

Starsky remained unswayed by the fervor in Hutch's tone. He didn't want to hurt his partner, but there was no turning back now. Gently, he refused, "I have to Hutch. I'm not a cop right now. I'm a liability"

Hutch sat for a long moment. Emotions swirled within him. Fear, pain, hurt, loneliness. He didn't want to give up a part of his life. Being a cop was as much as part of his being as it was Starsky's, but in the next second, he also couldn't give up his partner who was a part of his soul. With that thought, his own decision eased as he smiled gamely back at Starsky "Well then, what 's our next move?

Starsky had been watching the myriad of feelings pass over Hutch's face, but he was still taken off guard by Hutch's offer. He shouldn't have been surprised, but the magnitude of what his friend was willing to give up for him was overwhelming . Starsky felt very small. He didn't deserve such a friend. His voice caught in his throat as he made his adamant refusal, "Whoa, buddy, this ain't a 'me and thee' this time. This is something **I** have to do. I'm the one that has to figure out who David Starsky is. I have to ride this path alone."

Hutch protested, "Starsk…", but was quickly interrupted.

"Hutch. I appreciate it, more than you can know, but you can't fix this for me." Starsky then swallowed as he continued, " There is one thing that you can do for me though." And he began to reach under his jacket. He pulled out his gun and badge as he held them out to his partner, "Take care of these".

Hutch looked at the proffered objects wordlessly. The reality of the whole conversation began to dawn on him. He was going to lose him. The frustration of the situation ignited and he flared angrily, "I can't Starsky. You can't leave those with me. That's against all the regs. Give them to Dobey if you're just going to walk away"

Starsky didn't react to the anger. He had had time to get used to the decision and understood what Hutch was going through. He tried to explain himself further so that Hutch could understand and accept it even if he didn't agree.

" I tried. He wouldn't take them. Told me to stop being dramatic and gave me two weeks off. But I'm not being dramatic Hutch. I know I can't leave them. But I can't take them either. I need to find me, David Starsky the person, not Starsky the street cop. I've got to get away from it all, Hutch, and that means this stuff too—"

He again held out the gun and badge and pleaded, "Please?"

Hearing the hollow desperation in Starsky voice, Hutch knew he was defeated. Still, he had to try one more time as he beseeched him," Starsky, won't you reconsider? "

Seeing the sadness in Starsky eyes, Hutch finally relented and grudgingly accepted the badge and gun. He felt that he was holding his partner, no -- his **friend's**, soul in his hands. He looked up and asked wearily, "What are you going to do?"

Starsky sighed. The worst was over. He had told Hutch. He hadn't really thought that far ahead. He'd been dreading this moment, and now he felt so empty. His legs felt like lead as he began to rise from the chair. He acknowledged his partner's question with a quiet reply, "I don't know yet, but don't worry. I won't leave until you're on your feet. I promise that. "

He then glanced over at his partner. An awkward silence filled the room as their emotions were raw and blistered. Seeking an escape, Starsky smiled ruefully, and turned back towards the kitchen, " Now let me see about the goats milk shake"

Hutch's eyes followed his partner's retreating back. He then stared down at the badge and gun in his hands. His fist slowly covered the badge as he felt the worn leather. Hutch remembered when Starsky had been kidnapped and Marcos' gang had taunted him by leaving the badge behind. He felt as hopeless and despondent now as he did then. Only then, when he could fight lunatics to find his partner, at least there had been a chance, but now how could he even join the fight?

It had been ten days. Ten days of watching as Hutch worked his way back to being able to sit comfortably, to stand, then to stand unsupported, and then to walk. He was still using a cane to get around, but Starsky couldn't wait any longer. Each day had been filled with tension. After a few intense attempts to get him to change his mind, Hutch had finally given up. Then it hurt to be around – Hutch was taking it hard. Starsky understood, all too well; he'd do anything for Hutch, but he couldn't change this- his cowardice- every night, his sleep was plagued with nightmares- a gun, his being frozen, Hutch dead on the ground. He'd awaken with an overwhelming terror. Starsky's days were not much better – lack of sleep and guilt continued to take their toll as his appearance became worn and haggard. He had to avoid talking or being around anything that was associated with policework. Starsky was cued into how far he'd fallen when he went down to the precinct to talk to Dobey. Covered with sweat, his heart pounding and his head swimming with dizziness, he couldn't take the fear associated with being there. The world that he had once belonged in, he was now alienated from by his own fear.

Starsky recalled the scene with Dobey. He had faced up to Dobey about not wanting to return to work and being unfit for duty. . Then, he'd simply offered Dobey the option – fire him, or let him take the time without pay. Dobey wasn't stupid. He 'd given Starsky a stern lecture about misplaced guilt, responsibility, and commitment – and then had, in his own gruff fashion let Starsky know that he cared about the detective and wanted him to get this problem dealt with. He wanted Starsky on his team, and if that meant letting him go for awhile, then he'd do it. Shaking his head from the memory, Starsky knew that it was time to leave. With both Dobey and Hutch working on him, he would lose his determination, and he knew that he had to have the guts at least to follow through with this decision.

Trying to firm up his resolve, Starsky took a deep breath and grabbed his apartment door to let himself out. He locked the door and turned the knob to check that it held, as was his habit. For a moment he leaned his forehead against the door jam, realizing that he didn't know when he'd next cross the threshold. With a deep breath and a determined resolve, he headed quickly down the steps to where his motorcycle waited. He carried only the barest of necessities – an extra pair of jeans, three shirts, and a couple of pairs of underwear and socks. He'd packed his razor but didn't plan to use it. He'd almost forgotten his toothbrush but grabbed it at the last minute. Strapping the small pack onto the back of his bike, Starsky kicked the machine to life and let the engine warm up for a minute, listening to the low rumble that could normally soothe his troubles away – he hoped they'd work again this time.

Even though he'd planned his departure for early morning, it still took him nearly 45 minutes to get out onto what he considered "open road" where he didn't have to apply the brake every ten feet, and the fumes from the cars weren't choking him. As soon as the road in front of him cleared, he pulled back on the throttle and let the wind rush past him as he concentrated on nothing but the bike, the road, and the gorgeous coastline that fell away to his left.

He'd been on the road nearly 4 hours now, and it was still a couple of hours until lunch, but he needed a break. His legs and back weren't used to extended periods of riding, and his butt was numb. He started looking for a place where he could pull over and enjoy the scenery while easing his muscles.

As he walked along the nearly deserted beach, the memories came crashing back like the waves that met the shore. Hutch lying in a pool of blood; the eyes of the shooter at the daycare center; the cold chill that filled him when he'd seen the second shooter at the liquor store… and another image. Not a memory, but a projection of what could have – **would** have been, had Hutch been behind him that day at the center. Hutch dead at Starsky's hands just as surely as if he'd pulled the trigger himself. That moment of hesitation and fear would have cost his best friend his life, of that Starsky was certain.

Without thinking, Starsky found himself walking faster and faster as the disturbing thoughts crowded his brain. Hutch's cry when he'd been hit, the look in his face when he'd told Starsky that it wasn't his fault, how he'd cried in Hutch's arms as Hutch had forgiven him what he knew was unforgivable. He was no longer Hutch's partner – he was a risk.

Starsky didn't realize he'd been running until he reached an outcropping of rocks where he came to a stumbling halt, gasping and sobbing. Fresh tears of agony and shame joined the tears that had been whipped from his eyes by the wind. He screamed against the wind, the torment in his mind too much to hold inside any longer. He collapsed into the sand, crying for the best friend he knew he'd lost, and the career his cowardice had cost.

"Cap'n Dobey… Can I have a minute?" Hutch knocked lightly on the open door of Dobey's office.

"Yeah. What's up? How're you feeling? Sit down."

"Much better." Hutch assured him, trying not to lean too heavily on the cane he was using to support his injured leg as he moved to one of the chairs in front of the Captain's desk.

"Starsky told me he was taking some time off. I just wondered if he happened to mention where he was heading? You know, in case I need to get in touch with him."

The older man closed the file he was studying, and folded his hands in front of him. "No. He didn't, Hutchinson. I kinda figured if anyone would know where he was headed, it would be you."

Hutch didn't respond right away, just gave a disappointed shake of his head.

"Hutchinson, what's going on with him? It's got to be more than just your shooting? There's something more to all of this isn't there?"

"Yeah," Hutch gave a heavy sigh. "Remember a couple of weeks ago, there was a hostage situation at a daycare center?"

"Sure, I remember, – I reamed your partner for going in without backup." Dobey recalled.

"Well, he still had some issues with that shooting, and this" Hutch gestured to his injury, "on top of it…" he didn't need to finish the sentence.

Dobey stared thoughtfully at his detective. That answer was vague enough; whatever had gone down, obviously they weren't telling. He shook his head, "I don't understand your partner. Both shootings were good calls."

"I know that and you know that, and the entire fing department knows that, but Starsk – you know how he is – he gets something in his head and he can't get it out."

"So that's what he's doing? Getting it out of his head?"

"I hope so, Cap'n. I sure do hope so."

The sunset over the beach was magnificent. Starsky watched the shifting colors as he listened to the gulls overhead, to the sound of the water as it struck the sand and the rocks. He tried to focus on the sights and sounds so that his thoughts wouldn't take him back to that fearful place where Hutch died over and over again in his mind.

The sky grew dark, the diamond-light of stars emerging, and still Starsky sat unmoving by the water. Briefly he considered walking into the waves and swimming out until he could swim no more, and just letting the water take him. But his mind retreated from that thought – knowing it truly wasn't the answer. Once that decision had been made, he began considering his other options – he could ride on for as long as he wanted to. Sooner or later they'd fire him for abandoning his job, but did he really care?

He could return and try to face the fear as Hutch had told him – not to fight it, but face it and take away it's power – but he didn't have that strength.

Could he ever return to police work? The thought made him break out in a cold sweat… no matter how small a town he sought, there would always be the risk that he'd be required to protect someone, and he'd freeze and fail -- cost some innocent person their life. Maybe he could be a rent-a-cop – that thought brought a wry grin to his lips as he envisioned himself walking a beat in a mall full of geriatric mall-walkers, apprehending dangerous teenagers shoplifting the latest style in sneakers. Yeah – that was about all he was good for. He settled himself back against the rocks and pulled his jacket up around his ears, jamming his hands into his pockets. There was a long night ahead of him, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Hutch slammed the phone back into its cradle. "Dammit, Starsk! Where did you go and why didn't you tell me?!"

His gaze fell on his key ring and it occurred to him that he had Starsky's apartment key – maybe he'd left a clue there. Quickly grabbing a jacket, he headed out.

The Torino sat in its usual parking place and for an instant Hutch entertained the hope that he'd find his partner holed up in the apartment. The hope was short-lived, however, as he noticed that Starsky's bike was gone. Taking the stairs as fast as his injured leg could take it, he approached the apartment and knocked – just in case. There was no answer, so Hutch slipped the key into the lock and let himself in, flipping on the lights as he stepped into the front room. He gave a shake of his head. Starsky hadn't bothered cleaning up before he left – another sign that worried him. He may be haphazard, but he usually didn't leave it this messy. Not sure what he was looking for, Hutch moved quietly through the apartment, straightening things here and there, where it was just too much out of the ordinary for him He folded a shirt that laid across the back of a chair, carried a styrofoam coffee cup to the sink and emptied it before dumping it in the trash can, straightened some magazines on the coffee table and then sank down into the sofa – "Starsky, buddy, where are you?"

"Ugh! That was **not** a good idea!" Starsky grumbled to himself the next morning as he struggled to his feet. The night on the sand and rocks had nearly paralyzed his muscles with cold and damp and he walked stiffly back toward where he'd parked his bike. He didn't remember it being so far away – but then, he'd been trying to forget when he'd headed out. By the time he reached the bike nearly 40 minutes later, his muscles had loosened up enough that he was able to swing his leg over the bike, and start back on the road.

He rode for about 45 minutes and then the rumbling in his stomach began to rival that of the bike's engine, so he pulled over and took out his map, trying to locate where he was, and where the next food might be found. Locating a small town about 40 miles ahead, he folded the map and stuck it back in his pack, once more pulling onto the road.

At ten o'clock Captain Dobey ran into Hutch at the vending machine in the hall. Dobey was trying to dislodge a candy-bar that had become caught on the rack during its fall. He looked up as Hutch approached. "Have you heard from that partner of yours yet?" he asked. His tone was gruff, but his expression belied the tone.

Hutch dropped a few coins in the machine and punched the buttons of the item where Dobey's candy-bar hung – both items dropped cleanly to the tray at the bottom. "Not yet. I went past his place last night, but he's not there."

Dobey held the second candy-bar out to Hutch who declined with a smile and a shake of his head. "Well…" Dobey said as he ripped open his snack, "Let me know when you do."

"Will do, Cap'n." Hutch assured him, and they went about their business.

It had been two days of riding, and Starsky was beginning to feel it. He'd covered a lot of ground, seen a lot of beautiful country, but hadn't enjoyed a moment of it. Every mile seemed to add one more image to the loop of torture that he'd created for himself. The sun was beginning to drop under the horizon when he cruised past the sign for Crater, Population 750. He hoped they had a place he could get a burger and a beer – or four.

Twilight was fading quickly into full darkness when the glow from a pink/orange neon sign welcomed Starsky into the small town. "Mom's", it read. The lighted sign below it finished the message "Homemade Food, Friendly Service". The parking lot was about half full. It appealed immediately to Starsky's idea of fine cuisine and he eagerly turned into the rutted parking lot. Bouncing through a deep hole, he pulled into a spot by the door and killed the engine. He looked up to see several curious faces peering out at him. Despite his fatigue and loneliness, he managed to muster up a smile at them as he settled the bike onto its stand before pushing his way through the doors.

He looked around and found an empty booth, far away from the company of others. He slid into it, as the waitress approached. "Hi! I'm Tonya, and I'll be your waitress. Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. A petite brunette with dark eyes, her smile was friendly as she contemplated Starsky.

"Yeah -- what do you have on tap?"

"Coke, Sprite, Root Beer and Ginger Ale." She replied.

Starsky looked puzzled for a second then said, "Bottle of Budweiser?"

Tonya nodded and made a note on her pad. "Tonight's specials are meatloaf with green beans and a roll – that comes with mashed, baked or fries… the fish is cod, that comes with green beans and a roll – mashed, baked or fries… and we have spaghetti with meatballs, that comes with a salad and a roll."

"No mashed, baked or fries?" Starsky couldn't resist teasing her, and earned himself a smile in return.

"I'll give you a few minutes and get your Bud." She handed him a menu and hustled away.

After a quiet, contemplative meal, and more than a few beers to further the numbness that he desperately sought, Starsky found a small hotel a few blocks away and took a room. His muscles were screaming after the combination of the long hours of riding and spending the night on the beach. It wasn't the bed he needed so much as the hot shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it and let the warmth wash away the strain. He wished it could wash away the bleak thoughts that continued to fill his mind.

Where was he going? What did he think he was going to find? He knew he could continue to ride, but all that was doing was physically increasing the distance from the job – mentally it was still right there. Maybe he'd just stay here for a few days. This seemed like as good a place as any to hide from humanity and lick his wounds. . No one knew him here – he could be anonymous and have the time he needed to make sure that the decision he was about to make was the right one.

"Good morning! You must've really liked the meatloaf!" Tonya greeted Starsky the next morning as he sat at the counter. "Coffee?"

"Absolutely." he grinned. He felt a little bit better this morning – a combination of the deep sleep he'd gotten, and the decision to stop running – both literally and figuratively.

"What's the special in Crater today?" he asked, looking at the menu.

"Carter." Tonya corrected him automatically, "Blueberry pancakes with sausage and homefries. We also have some fresh muffins – cranberry and banana nut."

Starsky looked up. He was sure he'd read the sign right, and his expression said as much to Tonya, who laughed, "They screwed up the sign. We're Crater to everyone in the world except those of us who grew up and live here. It's Carter – the town was settled by Josiah Carter back in the 1800's but when it first was filed with the government and appeared on a map, they transposed the letters and now everyone thinks we're Crater – it's on all the signs, all the maps…" she shrugged philosophically.

"That's great!" Starsky chuckled. The absurdness of it appealed to him. "I'll have the blueberry pancakes, please."

"Comin' right up!" she turned and placed the order on the wheel to the kitchen.

Two men were seated in the booth behind Starsky and as they rose to leave, one stopped beside him. "Nice bike." He commented. "I've got an old Indian over at the shop. It runs, but I've never gotten around to fixing it up."

"Thanks. Yeah – I got this one cheap at an auction. The guy who'd had it before me crashed it bad. It was barely a frame when I got it. Took me about two years 'cause I couldn't just focus on working on it, but I finally got it back on the road."

"You're not a mechanic by trade." The second man stated.

That piqued Starsky's curiosity and he cocked his head to one side, "Now, what makes you say that?" he asked with a small smile.

"Your hands are too clean, and you've not got a single black nail." The man grinned back at him, holding up a permanently oil-stained set of hands, complete with two smashed fingernails.

Starsky couldn't help but laugh. "You're right. Currently, I'm not **anything** by trade. I'm what they call 'between positions.'"

"Well, if you're around here for a bit and want to take a look, come on over to Mike's Garage – I'll show you the bike."

"Thanks. I might do that."

"So, Tanya, what do people in Carter do on a Friday night?" Starsky asked as he counted out money for her tip.

"Tonya." She again corrected his speech. "Depends… there's a movie theatre, bowling alley, roller rink… there's a couple of bars. Jimmy's is down the street. It caters to the younger scene – you know, video games and Top 40 on the box. Dexter's is over on Maple, it's kind of a country-western gig. Then there's Phil's. I'd say you'd fit in at Phil's best, if you're interested in bars. I can't really see you as a roller-skater." She added with a mischievous grin.

"Sorry about that, Tonya." He pronounced her name correctly. "Must be my accent." He grinned at her. "I'm Dave. What do **you** do on a Friday night?"

Tonya raised her eyebrows at him. "Work."

"Oh! Ouch!" Starsky grabbed his heart as if wounded. "Shot down in my prime." He gasped jokingly, then realized what he'd said and quickly sobered. "Um… anyway… thanks for breakfast."

Starsky wandered out of the diner and climbed on his bike, deciding to explore a little bit of Crater/Carter. He wound his way through the streets with no particular pattern in mind – just checking out what was where. He was riding through a residential neighborhood when a short blast of a siren behind him startled him. He quickly pulled to the curb, looking to see what the speed limit was, and how fast he'd been going. That wasn't the problem. He waited for the officer to approach, noting that it was a Sheriff's car.

"Good morning, sir! How are you today?" the middle-aged officer was sneeringly polite as he stood beside Starsky.

Starsky looked over at the officious man. The name tag identified him as Crawford.

"I'm fine, officer. Did I do something wrong?" Starsky wondered.

"No, sir. I just noticed you cruising around and thought I'd offer to help you if you were lost." The comment was phrased to hold just enough of a threat that Starsky nearly laughed.

"I was just taking a look around. I got into town last night and figured I'd see what Crater was like."

"Carter." The cop responded just as Tonya had – automatically. "Are you visiting someone here? I know most everyone in town."

_I bet you do_ Aloud he cheerfully replied, "No. I was just riding up the coast and stopped in last night. The meatloaf at the diner's good, the people seem friendly… I thought I might stay around for a few days."

"We're small, but we're good people." The officer replied. "If we can be of any assistance while you're here, the station's over on Elmwood – three blocks up and to your left. Have a nice visit, sir." He touched the brim of his hat and retreated to his car, having made certain that this stranger knew he'd been noticed.

"Any word?" Dobey asked as he stopped by Hutch's desk.

Hutch shook his head, looking up from the report he was typing.

Dobey tried to sound confident, "He'll probably call today or tomorrow…. Or he'll show up here like nothing ever happened."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Hutch gave a weak smile, clearly not believing in Dobey's prediction.

By noon, Starsky had come across a large community park that sported a lake large enough to support several sailboats and a couple of inner tubes. There were picnic grounds scattered along the shore, as well as several boat ramps, and even a few ropes that swimmers could use to launch themselves further into the depths of the deep green waters. He rode about half-way around Moon Lake until he found a deserted picnic area where he could sit in the shade, watch the water and think.

He wasn't really sure what his next step was going to be. He'd run away from the job he could no longer face, but had no idea of what he might be running to. What does a trained policeman and detective **do** if not serve the people in those roles? He skipped stones idly across the surface of the water as he considered his options. What was he going to do with the rest of his life?

Unbidden, images from his life as a policeman came flooding back -- from his first days as at the academy, where everything was new and sometimes a bit intimidating to his days on the beat proudly wearing the uniform. Interspersed were the times he'd been in danger and as he watched the mental images flash through his mind, he envied that younger Starsky, his confidence, his ability to react without thought – or fear. But next came his days with Hutch – the hundreds of times they'd been shot at, or threatened in some other manner with bodily harm. He felt his heart grow even heavier as he remembered that even those situations had never scared him the way the scene with the perp at the daycare center had. He could exactly pinpoint the day, date and time that he'd lost his nerve -- and his ability to do his job. He gave a wry grin to himself, '_Now how many people can do __**that**__?!_' he growled silently.

The sadness and futility of it all deepened within him. It wasn't just the loss of his job. It was the loss of his partner. Being Hutch's partner had always felt right. The feeling of knowing where you belonged. He couldn't ask Hutch to leave policework despite what he'd offered. As his friend, he knew what Hutch had already given up to be a cop – his marriage, his parents' approval. He couldn't stand in the way of Hutch's dream – he couldn't let him sacrifice that too. But he also couldn't think of being around Hutch if they didn't share police work. It would hurt too much.

What was he going to do? Was he ever going to go back?

It was late in the afternoon when Starsky headed back into town. The school buses were discharging their young occupants and his progress from behind one of the yellow carriages was slow. The fumes were starting to really get to him when he noticed the sign for Mike's Garage. Recalling the invitation to come check out the old Indian – and figuring that by the time he was done, all the buses would be off the road – Starsky turned into the parking lot and swung off the bike.

The service pit doors stood open, and Starsky recognized the older man from that morning as he worked over at a bench to one side of the bay. Jamming his hands deep into his jacket pockets, Starsky strolled over and cleared his throat.

The older man looked up quickly, his expression hard before he recognized Starsky and he grinned, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands, though the rag appeared to be just as greasy.

"So, you couldn't stay away, could you?" the man grinned.

Starsky gave a weak smile as he responded vaguely, "You know how it is."

"I'm George. I own this place. That's Eddie." He pointed to where the other man from this morning was bent over the engine of a car, oblivious to anything around him. Country music drifted through the scratchy speakers of a transistor radio, accompanied by the occasional bang and clank of Eddie at work.

"I'm Starsky. Dave Starsky. Thought this place was called Mike's" Starsky pointed out as George led him toward a door at the back of the bay. George laughed, a harsh bark of a sound, "There ain't been a Mike at this garage for 15 years. We've just never changed the name – new sign's too expensive and folks around here all know this place as Mike's anyway…. why confuse 'em?"

That last comment would have amused the old Starsky – this one merely twitched one side of his mouth up in a sketch of a grin and followed George.

As soon as he saw the old Indian, Starsky stepped toward it and ran an appreciative hand over the restored leather seat. "She's a beauty." He marveled , squatting down to take a look at the engine. "She runs?" He looked to George for confirmation.

"Yeah – she's a little rough, but I take her out about once a month and keep all the parts lubed."

"May I?" Starsky indicated he'd like to start her up and George nodded his consent. A moment later the engine grumbled to life. Unlike the roar of Starsky's bike, this motor had more of a hum – rather like the difference between Starsky's Torino and a Model A. Now as the engine ran, Starsky dropped so that his ear was nearly touching the small heart of the bike. Sure enough, after a few moments there was a slight stagger in the rhythm. Starsky listened for several minutes and then reached up, without thinking, and gave the bike more gas, continuing to listen to see if the stagger repeated itself. It did, at a slightly faster pace. He let off the gas and looked at George, "Got a Philips' head?"

"Is this a garage?" George gave him a sarcastic reply but headed back out to the bay to retrieve one. He handed it to Starsky. "You know what the problem is?"

"Think so." Starsky lay on his back and reached under the engine, both hands disappearing under the frame of the bike. A few seconds later the stagger became worse, and then suddenly the engine seemed to move from hum to purr and the stagger disappeared.

Starsky let it run for a full minute more before sliding back out from under it and rolling to his feet. He handed the screwdriver back to George. "I think that'll do it. Slight adjustment on the fuel's all."

George gave him an appreciative grin as his prize continued to perform perfectly. "That's amazing! I've been through that engine myself two dozen times… I never was able to get it just right."

Starsky shrugged modestly. "Took me about that many times through mine before I found the secret." He reached over and killed the engine on the bike. "Thanks for showing it to me."

"Anytime." George replied and led the way back out to the front of the garage.

Eddie gave a jerk of his head in greeting as George and Starsky re-entered the bay. "What'd'ya think?" he asked.

George chimed in before Starsky could speak . "He fixed that stutter. He takes two minutes to do what's been beyond me for over a year."

Eddie laughed, "Figures. So, I guess you **do** know your way around an engine after all." He grinned at Starsky.

"I've done my time under the hood." He answered neutrally and turned to George,

"Thanks again."

"See ya around, and thanks." George answered and gave him a slap on the back.

The face on the alarm clock in Starsky's hotel room glowed 11:30 as he lay on his back on top of the covers, his arms crossed behind his head. He'd skipped dinner and gone back to his room. TV failed to distract him as he contemplated what his life was to become. Sleep also became elusive, and six hours later, he was no closer to an answer than he had been before. Frustrated, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and sat up. Glancing at the clock he decided to get a beer at one of the bars – maybe the alcohol would at least help him sleep.

The streets were damp and nearly deserted as Starsky rode toward Phil's. They didn't really roll up the streets here at dark, but apparently, they could if they needed to.

The parking lot at Phil's was populated predominantly with pickup trucks, although there were a few "hot rods" as well. Starsky found himself thinking that his Torino would blow any of these cars out of the water and felt a stab of homesickness for the comfort of his car.

Thinking about all the hours and miles he and Hutch had logged in the red and white machine, Starsky wound his way glumly to the bar and found a place to lean long enough to order while he checked out the layout. He was hoping to find a nice dark, quiet booth but it seemed as if they were each taken. A small table over in one corner was available and when his beer arrived, he headed toward it.

Sipping the cold brew, Starsky unobtrusively studied the patrons of the bar. There was a pool table at one end where a dozen people were gathered, watching and wagering on a game. Raucous laughter burst from the group at irregular intervals. Couples mainly occupied the booths, both sitting on one side where they could maximize the low lighting and seclusion of the seating. There were several tables, mostly empty now as the hour grew later. There were still several people standing at the bar itself, drinking, smoking and eating the stale pretzels that sat there.

A cluster of six or seven men caught Starsky's attention as it became apparent that the largest and loudest of them was drunk. Starsky watched as the man told a wild story, arms waving, voice booming. From what Starsky was overhearing, it appeared his name was appropriate, Ox. His friends all laughed and encouraged the big man even as he began to harass the bartender. The bartended put up with it for about five minutes, then pulled a baseball bat from beneath the bar and laid it on the counter. He was clearly used to their antics. The group fell silent for a long moment and then laughed loudly again as they turned their attention elsewhere.

Starsky knew what was going to happen and even as the leaders' eye fell on him, he heaved a sigh and took a deep pull on his bottle. He nodded to the bartender to send over another one, and waited for the inevitable confrontation.

As the waitress walked past with a tray, Ox reached out and took a bottle from the tray, leaving her one short for the customer she was heading to – Starsky.

The man carried the bottle over as his buddies watched, wondering what he was up to. "Hey,. I believe you asked for this." He held the bottle out for Starsky to take it from him.

"Just set it on the table, thanks." Starsky said, not falling for the bait.

The man turned and pulled a face for his friends then set the bottle down before pulling out a chair and turning it backwards, leaning over the back to look closely at Starsky.

"You're not from around here." He stated.

"Nope." Starsky replied. He could feel his muscles tensing and knew that the adrenaline was already running.

"'Cause around here, we're a lot more polite that you are." He pronounced it po-light.

Starsky didn't reply, just lifted his bottle to his lips.

The bottle suddenly tore away from Starsky's mouth and flew against the wall several feet away as Ox slapped it from Starsky's grip. Both men's chairs toppled backwards as they got to their feet, Ox stepping toward the much smaller Starsky, obviously intent upon bodily harm.

Years of experience, however, had taught Starsky exactly how to deal with the situation, and with a quick step into Ox, he managed to grab the thick forearm of the drunk and duck under the swing that Ox had aimed at his head. Starsky stepped behind Ox, pulling Ox's arm behind him and up into the center of his back before Starsky planted a foot at the back of the other man's knee and brought him down.

Unable now to move without breaking his arm, Ox quickly backed down, "HEY! I was only jokin' around! I didn't mean anything!"

His buddies had never had a chance to move to help him, and now that he wasn't standing up to Starsky, neither would they.

"Look, all I want to do is have my beer in peace. Understand?" Starsky was angry and he recognized it as nearly uncontrolled. It was all he could do not to go ahead and snap the man's arm just for being stupid, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax the pull on Ox's arm enough that it was in to immediate danger of being broken.

"Sure! Whatever you say, man!" Ox blubbered.

"Why don't you go home for the night. I think you and your buddies have had enough." Starsky's suggestion brooked no room for discussion. With a shove that sent Ox sprawling face-first to the floor, Starsky stepped back to his table, righted his chair, and picked up the unspilled beer that Ox had delivered.

Ox scrambled to his feet, shot Starsky a dirty look and then nodded for his friends to follow him out. A moment later the sound of roaring engines declared their departure.

In a far corner booth, at the opposite end of the room, Eddie and George exchanged looks as they returned to their seats after watching the altercation. "Maybe…." George nodded.

The next morning Starsky took a quick shower and rode over to the diner for breakfast. So far it was the only place he'd found besides fast food that served breakfast, and he just wasn't in the mood for an Egg McMuffin. He settled at the counter and said good morning to the waitress; he was now well known to each of the three waitresses that worked there. Starsky was briefly disappointed; he preferred Tonya as she was the friendliest one, but considered that she must be working the evening shift today. Brenda poured his coffee, and nodded in reply as Starsky turned to study the completely familiar menu. .

"'Morning." George said, appearing at Starsky's elbow.

Starsky nodded, "'Mornin'."

"I don't know how long you were plannin' on staying here in town, but Eddie and I were talking yesterday and, well, we're a little short-handed right now. Normally there's three of us working, but we're down a man and, well, if you're interested -- I could take you on over at Mike's."

Starsky didn't know what he'd expected, but it sure wasn't **this**! He stared at George for a long moment and swallowed the coffee he'd been holding in his mouth. "Mmm, well, I… I hadn't really…"

George patted him on the shoulder, "Think about it. I'll be at the shop all day -- come see me if you're interested." he turned and with a wave to Brenda headed to the shop.

As Starsky ate his solitary breakfast, he found his mind kept wandering back to George's offer. He'd known all along that he couldn't run forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to stop and face the fact that his life was no longer the same – that it would never be the same again.

He was gaining nothing by roaming the streets. The many hours he'd spent in contemplation hadn't eased the pain of his decision in any way. He might as well take the first step to getting on with his life. Carter seemed as good a place as any to start, and there was certainly nothing that said this stop had to be permanent. There was also the issue of income – he'd been careful with the cash he'd brought with him, but it wouldn't last forever, he might as well augment it with a few days service at Mike's.

But it was taking that first step, as always, that was proving difficult. Starsky lingered over his meal for nearly two hours, drinking cups of too-strong coffee, and ignoring Brenda's increasingly curious looks.

'Dammit, Starsky! What're you waiting for? You're not a cop anymore – you're nothing! You might as well take this job and get over it.' He finally chastised himself into action and rose to pay his tab. He left Brenda a more generous tip than usual, thinking that he wouldn't have to watch his money quite so carefully now.

Still it was nearly noon when Starsky finally approached Mike's. George was out front checking off a delivery as parts were shuffled from a truck to the back of the shop. Starsky walked up and waited where George could see him. After a moment the older man looked up and with a grin nodded his understanding at Starsky. "I need to finish this up. I'll be with you in a second if you want to wait for me in the office."

Starsky's reply was a nod of his head and he disappeared into the shop.

That afternoon he worked on an old station wagon that belonged to one of Eddie's cousins. The brakes had been squeaking, according to the owner, and Starsky was busy replacing the pads and checking the fluids. It wasn't exactly mindless work – he had to pay attention to what he was doing, and to concentrate on getting the parts fit correctly, but it was satisfyingly unchallenging. As the shadows outside the shop lengthened into evening, George 's feet appeared in Starsky's field of view from beneath the vehicle.

George gave a light rap on the door, "Dave? Day's over. You can finish that up in the morning."

"'m almost done." Came Starsky's muffled reply.

A chuckle from George preceded his answer, "It'll be there tomorrow. I'm hungry and want to get home."

Starsky continued to work with the cables under the vehicle, making no move toward leaving the job.

George nudged Starsky's left foot, "Ten minutes and then you're out of here whether you're finished or not. I don't pay overtime." He half-teased.

Fifteen minutes later Starsky stood with Eddie and George as they locked up the last of the shop doors. Eddie turned to Starsky, "It's good to have you on, Dave. You do good work."

"Around here, you **have** to – you know everyone in town." George grinned.

Starsky couldn't resist a lop-sided grin. It was true. Through the day a parade of

customers and friends had come through the garage and he'd been mildly surprised to hear George and/or Eddie greet each one by name, and frequently with a specific question regarding their vehicle. When asked, they'd admitted that they'd been working at the garage for nearly 20 years between the two of them.

"Yeah – and you don't want my cousin coming after you if those brakes aren't right."

Eddie teased. "She's **mean!**"

"All right, boys, I'll see you all in the morning. Have a good one." George waved goodnight and the three went their separate ways.

The next day Starsky met George and Eddie at the diner and they had a quick breakfast together before heading to work. George had explained that it was part of the routine at the shop that they got together at breakfast and discussed the work for the day – if there were any jobs that were proving difficult, this was the easiest time for them to be discussed.

At 8 a.m. sharp, the bay doors were rolled up, and Starsky and Eddie went to work on their days' projects. Eddie was replacing a cracked block on an old Nissan and it was a job that frequently required extra hands to help maneuver parts into place, so Starsky and George were frequently called away from their own jobs to provide their assistance.

By 10 o'clock they were ready for a quick coffee break. As they sat in George's office, Eddie looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. "Today's the 12th, right?"

George nodded with a grin, "Yep."

Both men laughed and Starsky looked at them, clearly not getting the joke.

"You'll have an oil change in here about 2 p.m. Whatever you're doing, take this one immediately, okay?" George told him.

Starsky's eyebrows rose in confusion and question.

"Martha Browning comes in here once a month in her big old Cadillac and wants the oil changed – filters, everything. Seems her dealer told her that she needed to have the oil changed every 30 miles and…."

"Thirty?!" Starsky interjected.

Eddie laughed, "Yeah! **We** know he said 3,000, but Martha insists it was 30, and since that's about all she drives each month, she comes in on the 12th of each month for her oil change."

Eddie and George laughed again, and this time Starsky had to smile as well. "She's a dear old lady, but she just will **not** listen to us on this. We've been changing her oil every month now for nearly four years. Hopefully she'll trade that car in soon and she'll hear the salesman right this time!"

"Seems like an easy 20 bucks to me," Starsky ventured with a grin.

George suddenly became serious. "We don't do business like that here, Starsky. I'll admit that I don't know much about you or how **you** do business -- but in this service station, we do **not** take advantage of our customers."

Starsky was taken aback by the vehemence of George's words. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

George relaxed as quickly as he'd tensed, "I know – I just want to make sure that you're clear on that. "

"I think I'll get back to work." Starsky felt like a schoolboy who'd had his knuckles rapped by his teacher. He rose and headed back to the car he was working on.

"Yeah -- we don't take advantage of our **customers** -- it's the other guys who have to worry!" snickered Eddie and though George gave him a warning glance, he also slapped him on the shoulder with a nod of agreement.

The rest of the day proceeded without incident and at the end of the shift, Starsky found himself feeling tired enough that he thought perhaps he'd even actually sleep instead of merely tossing around. He entered his hotel room and headed for a long, hot shower. As he flipped on the bathroom light, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped, staring at the face looking back at him.

His normally bright brown eyes were dark, and the skin beneath them was bruised from lack of sleep. His hair, never exactly manageable had grown into an unruly mass of curls. His skin had a gray pallor that was less than flattering, and he'd never noticed how many wrinkles and creases his face had developed over the years. With a self-deprecating snort he thought how short a time it had taken for him to fall completely to pieces. The shooting at the daycare center had only been a few weeks ago, yet the man in the mirror today looked 20 years older than the one Starsky had seen the day of the shooting.

He turned on the shower to let the water warm and went back out into the room to grab the beer he'd bought on the way home, and removed his dirty clothes. Bringing the beer into the bathroom with him, he set it on the back of the commode and climbed beneath the steaming water. As he scrubbed the days' grime from his body and hair, Starsky thought about Hutch. He smiled at himself--Hutch would **hate** being **this** dirty. Being a detective suited Hutch, Starsky thought. He was bright and thoughtful, a careful thinker yet quick to react when the situation demanded. **That** thought brought a lump to Starsky's throat and he reached out and grabbed the beer, taking a long pull on the beer before replacing it and continuing with his shower.

Starsky wondered what Hutch was thinking. He knew he should call and at least let his friend know that he was okay. Hutch was a worrier and Starsky hadn't been a very good friend by not keeping in touch – it was just that it was too hard. Starsky's mind suddenly jumped to a case they'd been working on involving a Jane Doe murder. He wondered what kind of progress Hutch had made. Wondered what else he'd been working on over the last few days.

He was suddenly overcome with a longing for the old days, when he and Hutch worked in such close collaboration that verbal communication was frequently not necessary. He missed the friendship that had grown from their partnership… one becoming an extension of the other. That was another factor that was making this decision so difficult – he knew that the friendship, no matter how strong, would never be the same without the element of the work. He grabbed the beer and finished it off with an almost angry gulp, and turned off the water. He climbed out of the shower and quickly toweled himself dry before pulling on an old pair of sweats and a T-shirt and heading off to bed and hopefully to sleep.

Hutch peered around the corner of his beat-up car only to have his movement trigger another volley of gunfire that drove him back behind the vehicle. His gun was drawn and his breath was coming in short gasps. They'd been responding to a call of a sniper situation in the building and had been the first to reach the address. As they'd pulled into the parking lot, however, they'd been fired upon from inside the building. Hutch had thrown the car into a slide, placing it lengthways between the gunman and them as he and his partner had both clambered out his door to the shelter of the heavy old car.

"Ahh… another warm welcome for the boys in blue!" Hutch's partner grimaced as the car window above him shattered.

"You're wearing brown." Hutch replied, risking another peek to try to determine the exact location of the shooter.

"Ha Ha Very Funny."

Hutch sat back, his back to the driver's side door. "He's on the third floor. Second window in from the left." He reported.

They watched as several black and white's quickly surrounded the area. Hutch waved to let them know that the two detectives were okay.

"What do you want to do?"

Hutch paused for a second while he considered their options. They were closest to the entrance – there was no way the uniformed officers who'd joined them at the site would be able to get in as quickly as they could from their location. The problem with that was that there were so many unknowns in the situation. Was this a lone shooter or were there more? Were there hostages? What was the target? Was this random or was there a specific goal to the attack? There was only one way to tell -- they had to get inside… and to do that they had to cross about 500 feet of wide open space.

"Well?"

Hutch took a deep breath and looked at his partner. "Give me a minute! I'm thinking!"

His partner poked his head up and quickly surveyed the scene before dropping down beside Hutch again, "Cover me. I'm going in!"

"WAIT!!" Hutch screamed and tried to grab for his partner, only to have him slip away.

Hutch instinctively rose to one knee, aiming over the hood of the car and laid down a volley of fire that he hoped would keep his partner safe.

Starsky found himself in a darkened stairwell. He couldn't catch his breath though the sprint across the parking lot shouldn't have winded him this badly. He took a moment to steady himself and then began climbing, hugging the inside railing lest the gunman look down and try to fire on him.

It seemed he climbed for hours before reaching the third floor landing. He was sweating profusely and his breath was coming in ragged gasps as he paused outside the door. He could hear the gunman inside, muttering to himself as he reloaded his weapon.

Starsky knew this was the perfect moment and he kicked the door in, "POLICE!" he screamed as the gunman whirled to face him. In slow motion, Starsky saw the gunman's finger squeeze the trigger, watched as the bullet raced toward him. He saw the bullet enter his chest and was amazed that he felt no pain. Instead, he raised his own weapon without thinking and fired it, not even looking up from the spot on his shirt where blood was now blossoming in a flower of red gore.

When he heard the gunman's body hit the floor, he finally looked over at the perp and screamed…. "HUTCH??"

Running to the downed man's side, Starsky gathered the man into his arms. He'd shot Hutch!! He was dead!! But how did Hutch get up here? Where was the sniper?? Why did Hutch shoot Starsky?? Starsky looked down and indeed, his own shirt was growing more blood-soaked by the second. He couldn't focus on why he felt no pain, why **he** wasn't dead. All he could think was that he'd killed Hutch. "HUTCH!!"

Starsky came awake with a jolt. The terror and horror still causing his heart to pound and he found himself soaked with sweat. He quickly sat up, anxious to dispel the dream. He flipped on the bedside lamp and swung his legs to the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. "_Oh God, Hutch. What am I going to do? What have I __**done?**_**!**"

Returning to sleep didn't even cross Starsky's mind. He knew that even if he were able to get back to sleep the nightmares would just return. He couldn't face that again. His heart still constricted when he thought of Hutch lying dead in his arms. Instead, Starsky splashed water on his face and pulled on his clothes. A glance at his wristwatch told him that it was 1:30 a.m. He'd gotten about 3 hours of sleep, he figured as he laced up his Adidas sneakers and locked the motel room door behind him. Shrugging into his jacket, and shoving his fists deep into the pockets, he started walking. He'd considered going for a ride, but didn't want to disturb the other motel guests by firing up the bike at this hour.

He meandered down the darkened streets, noticing where there were still lights burning on porches or in solitary rooms. Occasionally the blue light of a TV illumed an upstairs bedroom, or a nightlight shone through a small bathroom window. The overall impression was that the entire town was safe at home, comfortable with their lives and their families. Starsky longed for that sense of contentment and peace.

He walked for about an hour before he realized that he'd come around to Mike's. He was surprised to see a light burning at the back of the building, and instantly concerned, quietly walked around the building. The gate to the back lot that he'd seen George lock up that afternoon now stood open. There was a large corrugated metal garage at the rear that Starsky had assumed was either empty or used to store parts. Now, however, he could see through the open doors that it was a fully operational garage – better equipped, even, than the one at the front of the building. Voices, unintelligible but distinctive, carried to Starsky as he stealthily made his way closer. Surely this wasn't a robbery – all the lights were on and the gate was open – any patrolman coming past would notice both and be easily alerted. He stepped around a spot of gravel into the dirt and eased through the shadows until he was standing next to the building where he could hear the discussion inside.

"Man, last week's pick really paid off. I got 500 for the wheels off that Benz alone!"

A laugh preceded the reply, "Yeah, it's amazing what these people will pay sometimes, isn't it?"

"Go figure. Hey, when are we going to move the parts from that T-bird?"

"Eddie, didn't you say that shop in Sacramento wants them? I think he wants us to get them over there this week sometime."

"Will we be picking up any new 'merchandise' while we're there?" this was accompanied by an almost adolescent giggle.

"Definitely!"

Starsky stood on his toes to peer into the window. Inside the building were three semi-intact vehicles. One had been a Corvette, one a Camaro, and the last a Torino just like his, except black. They'd been stripped of their interior parts, and were in various states of being disassembled. Fenders and chrome lay in careful stack along the sides of the building, glinting in the lights. There were several engines on blocks, and Starsky saw stacks of everything from hubcaps to steering wheels. He quickly dropped back down into the darkness as one of the figures turned toward him. He'd recognized Eddie and George, but didn't know who the other man was.

"So… who's the new Goober?" an unknown voice carried out to Starsky, clearing a reference to him.

Eddie laughed, "'Hey to Goober!'" he quoted from the TV series.

"He's a damn good mechanic." George commented. "I don't know where he came from, but he'll free Eddie and me up for some, shall we say 'alternative' projects."

"Hey! Maybe we should have Sheriff Crawford take a look – see where he comes from. Run a make on his plates." The unknown voice was amused at the irony.

George's laugh carried through the door, "Yeah, that way he can assure the townsfolk what a wonderful job he's doing of protecting them."

The three men got a huge laugh out of that prospect and Starsky used the cover of their voices to make his quick retreat.

Damn! What had he stumbled onto here? Obviously a chop-shop, but just exactly how big was it? From the looks of the building and the parts he'd seen there, it was quite active. Sacramento was quite a ways off – it must be pretty extensive. Starsky's first thought was to call Hutch and get his take on the whole deal. He needed to talk to someone he knew he could trust, who would help him come up with a plan for taking this place down.

He walked quickly back toward the hotel, staying to the side streets and not wanting to raise any undue suspicion by moving too urgently, though the streets remained empty.

Starsky wished he'd been able to see the stack of license plates more clearly – he could have had Hutch run any number he'd seen, and that would give them an idea of the range of the thefts. He'd have to try to get another look, closer.

Starsky found it somewhat hard to believe that George, who seemed the epitome of small-town, would be involved in this type of operation, but he'd seen it with his own eyes. As he neared the motel he found himself eager to hear Hutch's voice – to discuss this turn of events with him. Without conscious thought, he'd returned to the familiar world of police work.

Locking the door behind him, Starsky flipped on the light and headed toward the bed, knowing that the phone would be on the nightstand – except that it wasn't. No phone?! He fell to his knees and jerked up the hem of the bedspread to check the wall for a phone jack. He found what must have been 10 years' worth of dust-bunnies, but no phone jack. How could a motel room NOT have a phone? He slapped a palm against his forehead and tried to think where the nearest payphone was. What he realized didn't make him happy -- the phone was outside Mike's Garage.

Starsky sat on the bed as he considered his options. He'd have to use the pay phone, but now wasn't the time. He'd stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of the night. No, he would have to wait till morning – that 's it, he could call Hutch while George and Eddie were at their breakfast in the diner. Starsky laid back down to get a little more rest. He thought that he wouldn't get any especially after the adrenaline of stumbling onto the chop shop, but he somehow the security of being able to contact Hutch gave him the release and he fell into slumber.

The bright light shone through the window waking Starsky up. At first he resisted, then woke suddenly as he recalled the events from the previous evening. Damn! What time was it? He had to make that call before it was too late. Starsky quickly looked over at the clock – 7:15 am. He could just make it before George and Eddie returned to the garage.

He soon stood before the payphone. A quick glance showed that all was still quiet. No sign of anyone. Starsky took all of his spare change out and got ready to make his call. Hutch would be at the precinct by now so he put in the money and dialed their extension line. Several rings passed and then he was switched to the police main operator.

Starsky swore to himself as he heard the operator's greeting. Why couldn't Hutch have been at his desk?

"Hello, this is Detective David Starsky. I have to contact Detective Hutchison or Captain Dobey. It's an urgent matter!"

"Sorry, sir, no one answered at Detective Hutchison desk, would you like me to patch you to Captain Dobey's office?"

"Yes, please, hurry". Starsky was beginning to feel anxious. Surely someone would be showing up soon. He knew that they would have missed him at breakfast.

"Dobey here"; the gruff voice sounded like music to Starsky's ears

"Captain. Its me, Starsky"

"Starsky? Where the hell are you? Do you know how worried you've gotten us all here?"

"Listen, I know Capt, but I got something urgent to tell you--"

"Please deposit 50 cents or you will be disconnected" broke in the mechanical recording from the phone operator

Starsky frantically searched for more change. He found another quarter which he deposited as he hurriedly continued, "Capt. I've stumbled onto a auto chop ring. I don't know how big it is, but it looks pretty extensive. And the local cop is in on it so you've got to let Hutch know—"

"Starsky What are you talking about? Where are you?"

"Your call is being disconnected". He had no more change. He shouted desperately, "Carter" before hearing the dead tone. Had he gotten through? Then, a few seconds later, Starsky cursed himself angrily. Even if it had, he had told them Carter. They would never find it out. Angrily he slammed the phone on the receiver, and then turned to see George approaching the phone booth.

"Morning, Dave. We missed you at breakfast. Are you having some trouble?" he asked suspiciously. Both he and Eddie had been concerned when Starsky had failed to show. They really didn't know all that much about him and with that new shipment, well, it was a bit of coincidence. And now, here he was talking on the pay phone.

"Mm, uh no. Everything's fine" mumbled Starsky as he looked to deflect George's curiosity.

"Well, pardon me, if it ain't none of my business, but you seemed a mite…upset.. there"

"Uh, no. " Starsky thought quickly as he exited the booth and patted George on the back. "See, it's this way. Sorry I missed breakfast, but today is my mamma's birthday. Back in New York. I travel around, but I always try to call her on her special day. '

He hesitated as his voice lowered, "But special day or no. We still don't seem to get along. Doesn't approve of my wandering ways." He added as he shook his head sadly for further effect.

George's eyes narrowed as he considered Starsky's explanation. It seemed plausible enough. He stared briefly back at the man and then smiled as he joked, "That's what mothers are for – making us feel guilty. Well, maybe a good day's work will make you feel better." as he looked pointedly over at the garage.

Starsky immediately got the message." I'll be right there." as he followed George over to the auto bay.

The day continued along much as the other two had previously. The regular garage work didn't seem to lack for business. Starsky had to work hard to act as normally as possible and to disguise the disgust that he now felt for his boss and coworker. They had seemed so friendly and genuine. He felt disappointed as he thought about how much he had really liked them. Now he knew they were no different than the scum he had taken down in the city. Only here, it was a hidden away…No one to keep track and try to stop the bad guys. Suddenly, Starsky had a deep ache as he realized how important his police work had been and how important it was to him. He still didn't know if that was where he could return, but he knew that he had to get out of this mess and still bring down his new boss.

As he worked on the old car in front of him, trying to fix the radiator, Starsky's mind again worked over his options. He knew that he couldn't rely on the local cops. He couldn't try the phone again. George had been pretty suspicious and wouldn't buy another "poor ole mother routine". He had to have more information. Tonight after the shop closed and before the nighttime business started. They had to take a break, and it would give him the chance he needed. He could sneak in after dinner and check things out. Now that he had a planned formed, Starsky's mind eased, and he put his effort into fixing the car. It was going to be a long day.

Dobey stared at the phone frustrated. He hadn't known that Starsky was going to be the caller. There had been no time to put a trace so he had no clue where the detective was. Only that once again, it sounded like he had gotten himself into trouble. Dobey banged the phone down and then hurried out to the squad room, his voice bellowing as he called for Hutchison.

Hutch entered into the squad room. A flare of hunger had caused him to make a run to a nearby bakery for breakfast. He was combing through a bag of bagels trying to decide which one to fix when he glanced up to see an agitated Dobey hurrying out of his office.

"Hutchison, where have you been? " demanded Dobey who then caught his anger as he realized that Hutch didn't know what had just happened. He forced himself to lower his voice as he informed Hutch, "It's Starsky. He just called"

The bagels dropped to the desk ignored as Hutch immediately began to pummel Dobey with questions "What? What did he say? Where is he? How is he? What's going on?"

Dobey held up his hand against the barrage of questions and gestured for Hutch to follow him back into his office. He sat down heavily as Hutch stood leaning over him with his hands on the desk as he waited impatiently for more information.

"I don't know. He called me. Said that he had found some sort of chop shop and that he needed your help. He sounded agitated, but I don't think he's in any immediate danger."

"Did he say where he is?"

"That's the frustrating part. I guess it must have been a long distance call because he was at a pay phone, and he ran out of money. The damn phone company cut him off just as he was telling me."

Hutch pounded on the desk with his fists to let out his anger. Damn it! They were so close. After waiting an agonizing week to hear from him and now this. Something was going down and his partner needed him. And he was helpless. After pacing angrily around the room, Hutch again turned to his Captain who had been watching him carefully.

"Did he call back?" even as he asked it, he knew Dobey would have told him of any other information. Still he continued, "Did he say anything else? Anything at all?"

Dobey understood the detective's anger and fear. He was feeling it himself. He sat and replayed the conversation over again in his mind. There hadn't been any other clues although he slowly recalled thinking that he had heard something following the operator's announcement of disconnection. Seems like Starsky had said something. He assumed it referred to the chop ring…what was it??…car…Carter! That was it! He glanced up at Hutchison triumphantly as he shouted "Carter. … just before the disconnect…THAT's what he said!"

Dobey then asked more calmly "That mean anything to you?"

Hutch stopped his pacing as he considered this new information. Carter. He couldn't think of any connections,

"Could be a person that he was trying to tell me about? But it doesn't strike a bell."

"…or it could be a place." added Dobey thoughtfully.

Hutchison exchanged a meaningful look with his Captain, "Right. I'll contact R & I and see if they can give me the run down on anyone named Carter that might be associated with either Starsky or myself or auto rings."

"…and I'll have traffic pull up some state maps so we can check around if there are any towns called Carter" announced Dobey as he picked up the phone to start his call.

Hutch rushed out of the room, eager to finally have something to do to help find his partner after all these days of waiting. He was worried about what Starsky had gotten himself into. Hutch smiled to himself as he thought of how easily Starsky attracted bad luck, and he took comfort in what Dobey had told him – Starsky needed his help, but didn't sound hurt. At least not yet.

Five hours later found Dobey and Hutch together once again in the small office. Reports and file folders were strewn around the room and windowsill. A large map of the State of California was laid out across the desk. Hutch sat defeated, and Dobey sat with his head in his hands. It had seemed like such a good clue. Dobey doubted himself. Had he really heard Starsky correctly? So far, there had been nothing.

Dobey scowled as he heard the door opening and looked up to find the man they knew as Huggy Bear enter through the door. Huggy was a friend/ informant of the detectives who had been involved in numerous episodes with them. A tall thin black man with a penchant for dressing flamboyantly, he and the Captain had become acquainted through those times when the episodes had turned ugly, leaving the two of them worried about the detectives. As opposite as night and day, Huggy tended to rub the brusque Captain the wrong way. Still, more than once they had been united to help their friends and the Captain knew that Huggy had a good heart.

Huggy hauled in a large sack of food. He knew what was going down. Hutch had called him earlier to ask if he knew of anyone named Carter who might be involved in an auto ring. Huggy had been sorry to tell him that no, he didn't know a thing. He too was worried about Starsky. Nothing had been right for these past three weeks since Hutch had gotten shot and Starsky had disappeared. Huggy had discreetly asked around to see if he could find anything about Starsky, but no one had seen him. He had truly vanished. Ever since, Hutch had been wandering around like a man who'd lost his soul. Huggy had been a little surprised. He knew that those two were as tight as fingers to a fist, but he had always thought it was Starsky who was more dependent on Hutch. Now, he knew that his friends were a pair of matched bookends. They needed each other evenly to be complete.

"Hey, you two…I figured you guys would be here working to track down this Carter dude. Thought you might like something to eat." As he pulled out the deli sandwiches, he made a flourishing motion as he announced "Wa la, at your service!"

Hutchison glanced up tiredly at Huggy, ''Mm…hi Huggy, thanks" as he half-heartedly grabbed a sandwich and began to peel back the wrapper.

Dobey just shook his head. Normally any type of food was not safe around him if it was within arms reach. But now…funny.. he didn't have any appetite.

Huggy simply looked at them, "Man, you two are some sorry looking dudes. I take it you haven't found the lowdown to this Carter fella?"

"If we knew, we would have told you wouldn't' we?" snapped Dobey as he suddenly snapped the pencil he was holding.

"Now hold on Captain," Hutch said soothingly as he gestured Huggy to sit down in the empty chair next to him.

"No, Huggy, we haven't found anything. Yet. There doesn't seem to be anyone named Carter who has a history with us or with an auto ring. Figures don't it. " he added dejectedly as he took a bite of the sandwich and continued to contemplate Starsky's message.

Huggy sat down in the worn brown chair. He took a moment to look around the paper strewn office. His eyes rested on the map in front of Dobey.

"Hey, what's with the map?"

"Trying to find a place to relocate you." Dobey snorted sarcastically.

Hutch flashed his Captain an exasperated look. He knew they were all on edge since getting Starsky's message and that Dobey was feeling guilty for not getting more out of Starsky or understanding the clue. Still, it wasn't going to help to take things out on each other. Starsky needed them and they all needed to work together.

He turned to his friend placatingly, "We've been checking it out, too. We weren't sure if Starsky was referring to a person or a place, but we've checked it over and over. There isn't any Carter, California." Hutch sighed and began to pick up the map to fold it back up.

Huggy grabbed the map back from Hutch, "Wait a minute..You asked me about a dude named Carter. I didn't know you were asking about a place."

"What? Do you know where Carter is?" demanded Hutch eagerly

"Not, Carter, man….Crater."

"What the hell are you talking about" interjected Dobey. He wished this man would speak more plainly.

"That's what I'm trying to get to. See, there's this little town up the coast. It's labeled Crater to everyone else, but to the folks that live there, its Carter. My cousin once lived up there in that area. I remember thinking how crazy it was. And they talk about city folk…." Huggy shook his head bemusedly as he suddenly pointed on the map with his index finger, "See, there it is...Crater, California".

Hutch looked from the map to Huggy to Dobey. His eyes flared with hope as he asked, "Do you think so Captain?"

Dobey began to reach for the phone, "It's the best we've got. I'll call the local sheriff there and see what they know"

Hutch laid his hand on the Captain's arm, "You better not. Remember, you said that Starsky said that the local cops were in on it. I'll drive up there and see what I can find." With that, he hurriedly jumped up and turned to thank Huggy, "Thanks Huggy.

And not just for the sandwiches. Once again, we owe ya".

Huggy shrugged embarrassedly, "Well, you just find Starsky and bring back that sorry ass of his to Bay City where it belongs".

Dobey stopped Hutch as he began to exit through the door, "Hutchison. I don't like you going in alone. Remember we don't know what's going on. I want you to call in regularly, you hear?"

"Captain, it'll be six hours till I get there, but I will call in when I get there and when I find Starsky"

Dobey nodded his acknowledgement and watched his detective rush out the door. He felt a renewed optimism that now they knew where to go that everything was going to be okay. His stomach growled and he began to eye Huggy's sandwiches with renewed interest.

The day had finally wrapped to a close and this day, Starsky didn't need any urging to finish up his work and head out of the garage. As the day wore on he had been itching to leave, the effort to keep up his friendly front wearing him out. Still, he thought that he had been successful. After the initial scene this morning, George hadn't seemed to be overly watchful of him, and Eddie had chattered like normal throughout the day. So, Starsky still felt safe, but he didn't want to risk contact again with the outside world. He'd try again after he had gotten more definitive evidence against the pair. He felt a little uneasy about his plan, without having Hutch there. He thought again back to Hutch. He sure hoped that his message had gotten through and that Hutch had figured it out. Starsky decided to take the time till his break-in to catch some dinner. The fatigue and stress of the day was catching up with him, and he felt the loneliness of being in a strange place without friends, without his partner.

Starsky once again entered the now familiar diner. Instead of heading back to the quiet booth in the back, he decided to eat at the counter. Looking around the diner, he saw that business was slow, only a few couples were eating up front by the window. His eyes lit up when he saw that Tonya was on duty. She had looked over when hearing the bell chime as he entered through the door and had given him a warm smile of welcome.

Starsky eased himself up into the counter stool. He smiled at his favorite waitress, and gently teased, "Evening, Tonya, What goes with the mashed, baked, or fries, tonight?"

Tonya grinned, "That'd be either the fried chicken or the fried catfish."

"I'll have the chicken…it suits me" he added bitterly.

Perplexed at the expression that had crossed his face, Tonya raised her eyebrows, but wrote down the order without further comment. "Anything else? A Bud?"

Starsky shook his head ruefully. He wanted one, but not given his plans for this evening.

"Coffee would be just fine, thanks," and then he tried to brighten back up a little, but his smile fell flat.

His change in mood did not go unnoticed by the perky waitress, who smiled sympathetically, "Long day huh? I'll get that coffee for you and be right back".

Starsky watched as she went to check on her other customers before heading back to the coffee station. He found himself staring off into space as he considered the events of the past two days. It had felt good to think that he might make a difference, but it brought back his doubts to the surface. He knew now that he wanted to go back to police work, but how could he? How could he risk it when he couldn't be sure about himself?"

"Dave?" the friendly voice prompted.

Starsky broke from his musing to see Tonya holding his cup of coffee.

"Sorry, seemed to have wandered off for a minute there", he acknowledged as he took the cup.

Tonya looked around the quiet diner. Everyone else seemed to be taken care of. She glanced back at the dark haired man in front of her. She had only known him for a few days, but she could tell he was a good guy, not like most that she had run into. He seemed to be carrying a heavy load.

She asked tentatively "Dave, it might not be my business, but well, I've seen you around the past few days. I want to help, and I know how to keep my mouth shut." She gave a deprecating laugh, "I grew up in this town, and I know every customer in here – I'm kind of like a bartender – what they don't tell me straight out, I'm usually able to figure out on my own. I'd like to help you, but you've got me puzzled. You don't exactly fit in with Eddie and his bunch. I'm sure you're a great mechanic and all, but he's not your type of people, I can tell. So if you're not staying for the job," she smiled gently, "I gotta know. Who are you running from?"

Startled, Starsky peered back her as he asked curiously, "What makes you think that I'm running from something?"

Tonya shrugged. "Look around. This is Carter. God knows I love it. I've lived here my entire life, but its not exactly the hotspot in the world. Nobody moves to Carter. The only people who live here are those that were born here and those who are hiding here. Now, I know you weren't born here, so you must be hiding here."

Starsky chuckled briefly at her reasoning, "Well taken. You should be a detective, but actually, the only person I'm running from is myself. And unfortunately, he keeps showing up."

Tonya nodded empathetically, "That is the hardest kind of running. Care to talk about it?"

Starsky looked into her soft brown eyes. Suddenly he needed to talk with someone and those warm eyes conveyed a genuine caring. He swallowed hard as began to let his story spill out. He found himself telling her everything from the daycare scene all the way to leaving his work and his partner. She listened carefully and quietly, occasionally murmuring sympathetically, asking small questions for clarification.

"So you see…I'm not a cop anymore. I can't be… Cops can't be cowards. And I can't be responsible for letting others down because of it." Starsky finished his story miserably and took a deep gulp from his coffee.

Tonya looked at him thoughtfully and then gave him a moment to recover as she quickly fetched his chicken dinner and returned. She watched as he slowly began to eat.

Starsky chewed the fried chicken. It tasted good. He did feel better having shared his story with someone who wasn't involved, but glanced at Tonya hesitantly, certain that he would either see contempt or pity for his cowardice.

Tonya filled his cup and then poured one for herself as she began to respond to his story, "Dave, I think your friend was right. It's not about you being afraid. It's about how you think about being afraid. I know. I've been there."

Tonya stopped him with a look before he could interrupt, "Now, I've not ever been a cop so I won't say that I know what that means. But I do know fear. Lots of it and having to live with it every day. You see," She glanced around carefully to make sure no one else was listening in. All was quiet as the other customers had finished up and left. She continued,

"When I was 17 years old. I didn't get along too well with my parents. A real handful. Then came along this guy. His name was Dean. I thought he was just like James Dean, you know, a real rebel. He rode a bike and showed a real interest in me. Well, I thought I had found true love. Snuck out one night and ran away with him. At first, it was just like I thought it would be…fun and fabulous, but then he started drinking and we didn't have any money. Soon, the kisses turned into slaps…when they turned to punches, I started thinking of how to get out of there, but I was afraid. He swore that he would kill me if I left and I knew that it was true. But I also knew that he would kill me if I stayed." Telling her story, even after all these years, still choked her and the tears began to fall from her eyes.

Starsky gently held her hand as he comforted, "How did you get away?"

Tonya looked up at him evenly and gave a wry grin. "I knew that I had to face the fear. I had to decide to live the way that I wanted to live. I left him one night after he was passed out drunk. I came back to my parents. Told them everything and how he was going to come after me. They took me back. All was quiet for a few weeks. Then, just as I thought that maybe he had been bluffing, I came home to find him on my porch. My parents were out taking care of my aunt. At first, I froze. I couldn't believe that he had tracked me down. He came after me and I couldn't move. It wasn't until he grabbed me that I began to fight back. He was bigger and stronger than me. In my panic I grabbed the nearest thing I could… my mother's ceramic vase was on the porch railing. I hit him over the head and thank god, it knocked him out cold." She was gasping for breath as the story brought forth those long ago memories.

Starsky reassured her, "See, you weren't a coward. You fought back when you needed to. You did what you had to do."

Tonya raised her eyebrows as she pointed out meaningfully, "That's just it, Dave. You did too. You came around and protected yourself. You would do the same again. For yourself and your friends. Especially if you are not so hard on yourself for what happened."

Starsky was caught in surprise as he mulled over her words. He had heard the honest truth in her story and knew what it had cost her to share it with him. Tonya smiled gently as she saw him considering her words. As she began to turn away to clean up, he lightly caught her arm, " What happened to him? This Dean guy?"

Tonya frowned sorrowfully, "Well, he did go to jail for a while. Because of a bunch of other charges. He's out though now and around somewhere. I hope he doesn't come back after me, but that's part of life and the risks I take."

Tonya glanced over at Dave. Their eyes met and in the warmth of his eyes, she knew that he understood her. She broke the moment with a light smile as she twisted her ring and finished softly, "Meanwhile, I've found someone who treats me the way I should be. You need to go back to your world, Dave. Its where you belong." and with that, she quietly turned away back to the kitchen.

Starsky sat in wonderment at the young lady. He realized that courage wasn't the stuff of heroes, but of people facing their fears every day. His heart felt lighter as he began to let go of his own fear. Starsky left the money for his bill and thoughtfully exited the diner. The conversation momentarily distracted him from his mission for the evening. Now the crisp, cooler air helped to clear his mind. He glanced down at his watch 8 pm. The garage should be closed, but it would be too early for the "second shift" to start.

He walked causally down to the garage. He left the bike at the diner as the town was so small, he knew that it would bring unwanted attention. The garage appeared dark and silent. Starsky carefully surveyed the outside of the building; all appeared deserted. Starsky crept around to the back where the corrugated building was locked up. Damn, he couldn't get in there. The door had a padlock. He couldn't open it without a key or a weapon. He felt frustrated. He had to get in there. Maybe the office in the main garage would have a key.

Starsky snuck back to the main garage and examined the back door. The building wasn't exactly a fortress of security. One of the advantages of small town living thought Starsky dryly to himself. One good push with his shoulder would break the vestibule lock. He leaned back to gather forward momentum and then grunted as his right should hit the door hard. Well, two good pushes then, as he saw the door began to buckle, but not break from the lock. The second jarring met with success and soon he found himself inside the garage. He groped back to the main office, but in the dark he could barely make out the features of the room. He cursed himself for being so unprepared. He would have to turn on the light, without a flashlight, he couldn't see to find the keys.

Starsky turned on the small desk lamp. He urgently searched the desk and the drawers, but came up empty. He felt incredibly exposed so he wasn't too surprised when a gruff voice called out to him, "Looking for these?"

George was blocking the doorway holding up a set of keys that Starsky surmised belong to the building out back.

Starsky began to stammer as he looked for a way to get out, "Hey, George… I know this looks bad, but see…"

"Save it, Dave, or should I say, Detective Starsky?" growled the man.

Starsky blanched in shock as the man identified him as a cop.

George shook his head, "That's right. After your little call this morning, we decided to have Sheriff Crawford look up your plates. Imagine our surprise to find out that down-on-his-luck Dave was none other than a stinking pig. What I don't figure is how you found out us? How much do you know about our contacts in Bay City?"

He began to move menacingly towards Starsky who was considering how he could take him down, when they were interrupted by further voices. Starsky recognized one of them as the unnamed voice that he heard from the night before.

"Hey, George, did you find 'im?" yelled the voice.

"Yeah, Randy, he's in here." called back George.

Just as Starsky moved to rush him, Randy showed up in the door -- his gun in hand and aimed at Starsky. He warned, "Don't even try it, cop. You'll be dead before you move."

"Where's Eddie?" asked George as both eyed the silent Starsky.

"He's out around back. Checking to see if anyone else is out there, but I didn't see anything." replied Randy.

"Good. We'll let's get him tied up. I'm anxious to hear the information that he has."

Starsky stared steadily at the men, but inside despair was growing in the pit of his stomach. No one knew he was here or what he was doing. There would be no cavalry coming to his aid. Worst of all, he was going to die without getting a chance to talk to Hutch. Should he just try to rush them? Take them out? He knew the chances were unfavorable, but was it better to take one of them out with him? The echoes of his earlier conversation with Tonya flashed through his mind. Choices. He was still alive. As long as he was still alive, he had a choice. So rather than risk certain death, he allowed George to tie him up to the chair. George examined his work critically and with pride. Starsky wouldn't be going anywhere.

As George finished tying up the pieces of rope, Eddie walked in and reported, "No sign of anyone. I guess Goober here decided to come alone."

The men all laughed at Starsky's nick-name.

Randy began the interrogation. At first, Starsky had kept silent, but as the punches to his face and stomach multiplied, he began to answer. He had left the force. Stumbled onto their ring. Hadn't told anyone. It **had** been his mother that he had talked to! He wouldn't of been here alone would he?!

Finally the men silently looked at each other. The cop had a point. He had been pretty stupid. They hadn't even found a badge or a gun. He must be telling him the truth.

"So, George, what we gone do with him now?" asked Eddie fearfully. He wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with a murder, especially a cop murder. Ripping off people's fancy cars did not bother him. After all, he was a small town mechanic. He felt good that he could "rob from the rich and give to the poor" as he put it to himself, but murder?

George ran his hand through his hair. This was certainly unexpected. That's why the ring had been so good. No cops to worry about. They had paid off Crawford and had been clean. Now, this damn it, of all the luck to hire a fing cop! Still, he looked around at the other men. They had something too good to let go or move. He didn't want to murder anyone, but they couldn't let him leave, and he knew that Starsky wouldn't join them. The thought of cold blooded killing was distasteful to him. It would have to somehow look like an accident or Crawford might start to get edgy.

He stared at the detective who sat bound, barely conscious. The men had worked him over rather well, but none of the injuries were life threatening. They had been methodical, but not cruel. Maybe it would be easier if he just disappeared. With that thought, a plan began to form in his mind.

"Randy, I think Detective Starsky may not have seen all of the sights that our quaint little community has to offer. How about we show him Moon Lake from the back of that Chevy out there?"

Randy and Eddie looked at each other. There would be no going back if they followed George's suggestion.. Randy nodded in slowly silent agreement, what else could they do?

"Wait a minute, George. We don't want any of this tracked back to us -- the chop shop can get us in enough trouble. I've got an idea." Eddie pointed out. "You know he and Ox had that run-in down at Phil's a couple of nights ago… let's let Ox take his revenge and rid us of our little problem at the same time. What d'ya say?"

George's eyebrows raised at the creativity of the thought and he nodded cautiously. "That could be a really ideal solution, Eddie -- good thinking! But are you sure Ox will have the stomach for this? Beating a man in a bar fight's a far cry short of murder."

Eddie's eyes glimmered, "You know Ox has been trying to get a piece of our action for awhile now -- we'll just call this 'initiation.'"

George and Randy both laughed at the perfection of the plan.

Ox was on his way home from his job at the county dump in the nighttime dark when he noticed Eddie parked alongside the road. Eddie was leaning casually against the front fender as if it were perfectly normal to be parked on this road at 9 p.m. As he recognized Ox's truck, Eddie raised a hand, motioning for Ox to pull over.

"What's up, Eddie? Trouble with your ride?" Ox clearly thought that was a funny comment to make to a mechanic.

Eddie smiled tolerantly as he stepped closer to the driver's-side window on Ox's vehicle., "No, Ox – no trouble. Listen, I need to talk to you about something but you've got to swear not to repeat any of this."

That piqued Ox's curiosity and he nodded. "Yeah, whatever you say!" he had a feeling this was going to be good!

"Look, we know you're aware of the after-hours business that George and I do in the shop behind the garage. We've been a little shorthanded, and we need someone we can trust to come in and help out with the work. We decided that you'd be a real asset if you're interested."

Ox looked like an awkward teenager as his immediate reaction was a beaming smile, which he quickly decided wasn't "cool" and toned down to a curt nod. He swallowed to make sure that his voice was in its normal octave and then spoke, "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, there's always stripping and cutting to do, and after awhile we'll probably have you do some painting. We'll make you a partial partner -- not as big a cut at George and I get, but you'd get a piece of the action. Only thing is…." Eddie trailed off as if hesitant to continue with his train of thought.

As expected, Ox encouraged him to continue, "Only thing is what?"

Eddie stared down at his boot toes and then looked up to the sky as if it were almost painful for him to say the words, "Well, George thinks that you need to prove that you're solid behind us -- that you won't turn us in once you get inside."

"I would never do that!!" Ox protested angrily.

"I know, I know!!" Eddie soothed him, all the while intending to goad him further. "It's just that, well, George has a lot riding on this deal – it's his property and he's got the most to lose if something goes bad. I 'm not supposed to tell you this, but we've known each other since grade school, and I think I know you pretty well, Ox," Eddie now focused on Ox's face. He heaved a sigh before speaking, "You know we hired that new guy in town for the garage, Dave Starsky? You know, the guy from Phil's?"

Ox's face colored as he remembered the embarrassment Starsky had caused him. He nodded silently.

"Well, it was all George's idea to hire him – and it turns out that he's a real trouble-maker. He's been causing all kinds of problems with the customers, and we found him snooping around the shop."

"Is he a cop?!" Ox made the connection more quickly than Eddie would have given him credit for.

Eddie shook his head, "He says he quit the force and he doesn't carry a badge or a gun."

"But…" Ox said, knowing there was more to come.

"Well, George wants him out of the picture anyway. He's afraid if he fires him, he'll go to the police and the Sheriff won't have any choice but to act on it."

Ox was quiet for a long moment, almost afraid to ask the next question – suspecting what the answer was going to be. "What does George want me to do?"

Eddie paused and then laid it out, "He wants Starsky to have an accident out at the lake. He figures they'd never find a body out there, and that way he can just tell anyone who'd ask about him that Starsky just left one day -- everyone knows he just rode into town, it wouldn't seem impossible that he'd leave the same way." He watched Ox for his reaction, unconsciously holding his breath.

For a few moments Ox considered what was being asked of him. He was a pretty simple man, and while a bar room brawl was well within his limits of acceptable behavior, killing someone was hard for him to agree to. He also recognized that Eddie and George had taken a risk in exposing their plan to him in the first place, and that if he refused, it was likely that the consequences for him would be unpleasant.

Eddie waited until he was pretty sure Ox had made up his mind and then said, "It's not like you'll be killing him… He's, shall we say, a bit incapacitated at the moment. If you were to lock him in a car, and it happened to drive into the lake, well -- it would almost be like an accident. In fact – that's what we **want** it to look like."

Ox was silent for a few moments longer and then looked Eddie straight in the eye and nodded, "I'll do it."

Starsky had suffered his share of injuries over the years, but the combination of lack of sleep and the severity of the beating did nothing to encourage him to fight for consciousness. He struggled when he felt himself being untied from the chair, but as soon as Randy felt Starsky regaining control of his arms and legs, Randy punched him again and was immediately rewarded by feeling the detective go slack once more. Without further incident, Randy and George were able to tie Starsky's hands and feet together. They lay him in the backseat of a car that had arrived on site a few days earlier. They'd finished stripping the exterior chrome and most of the interior parts that could be sold. While it was a shame to lose the rest of the body parts they could have taken from the car, George declared the loss a "cost of doing business", and they tossed Starsky into the floorboard of the backseat.

They'd just finished when Eddie and Ox pulled up. George stepped up to meet Ox as he got out of his truck. He stuck his hand out and shook with Ox, "I'm pleased to have you onboard, Ox. Once this little 'initiation' is over, I'm sure you'll see that it was well worth the effort." he smiled.

Ox was nervous and only managed a weak smile, "Let's get this over with." was his only comment.

George pointed at the black sedan they'd chosen. "You know how to get it into the lake?"

Ox nodded, "Yeah. I'll take it up to King's Bluff and put it in neutral. I'll be able to roll it down that hill over the bluff -- should get enough speed behind it to launch it into the lake pretty far."

"You'd better get moving. We don't want anyone to see you." Eddie pointed out and Ox agreed.

Eddie slapped him on the shoulder, "Good luck, Ox. Call us here when you're finished, okay? Then plan on having dinner with us at Phil's tomorrow tonight -- it'll be a celebration!"

Once more Ox nodded, and slid his bulk behind the wheel of the car. Heading toward Moon Lake, his head was filled with the sound of his heart pounding, and his own ragged breathing. Ox rolled the window down a couple of inches, trying to let the cool air calm him. He wanted to be part of the lucrative chop shop that George was running -- heck, everyone in town knew George and Eddie were pulling in a small fortune for their efforts. And it wasn't as if this was really murder. He could hear the guy in the back moaning, so he was alive -- and he'd be alive when he hit the water -- all he had to do was get out of the car and swim to shore. Heck! This was really more of a big joke than anything else, Ox tried to convince himself -- and succeeded with alarming ease.

Hutch pulled into Crater/Carter at 10:30. Traffic getting out of the city had cost him about thirty frustrating minutes of unnecessary time. Six hours of constant driving in his beat-up car were taking a serious toll on his mobility. .The first establishment he saw was a diner, it's garish neon sign welcoming visitors and customers. Hutch began to drive by, but suddenly pulled in as he noticed a motorbike that looked strikingly similar to Starsky's. Could it be? Could he really find Starsky this easily?

He climbed out of the car and ran over as quickly as he could to inspect the bike. Yes! It was Starsky's! He could tell by some of the tell tale dents and scratches. A huge smile lit his face as he glanced over at the diner. His partner had to be in there!

Ox checked the body in the back of the car -- Starsky was still moaning, and moving around a bit more as they neared King's Bluff. Ox stopped the car a couple of hundred feet from the old split rail fence that acted as the "barrier" at the end of the bluff. Anyone who didn't know the area would never find this bluff, and those who did know the area, knew better than to get too close to the edge – hence, no state-approved barrier had ever been erected. In this instance, Ox was glad for it made his job that much easier. He climbed out of the car, then reached back in and moved the gearshift to neutral.

Slamming the door behind him, Ox stared through the back passenger window at Starsky, who'd regained his senses enough to stare back – though uncomprehendingly. Ox hesitated a second. It was supposed to be an accident. If the cop was tied up, it might lead to questions. Furrowing his brow, Ox made a quick decision. He opened the back door and quickly punched Starsky again, driving him to once again to oblivion. Ox then quickly moved the body to the front seat and cut the ropes.

Confirming that Starsky was still incapacitated, Ox laughed and jeered – "Bye Bye, Pig!" as he pushed the car and watched it begin its descent. The car gained momentum as it rolled downhill towards the bluff. When it crashed through the rickety fence, it was travelling about 20 miles an hour and it flew several hundred feet beyond the edge of the outcropping as it descended toward the cool, dark depths of Moon Lake.

"I'm sorry. We're closing up." the waitress said as she approached the door Hutch had entered through.

"That's okay. I'm just looking for a friend of mine." Hutch smiled and quickly scanned the small diner. His relief turned to fear as he saw no sign of his partner. He turned to the waitress and grabbed her arm, "My friend…His bike's out there, but I don't see him!" Hutch fumbled with his pocket as he pulled out a picture of Starsky that he'd brought along

" Have you seen this man?"

Tonya took the picture from Hutch's fingers and studied it – so this was what Dave Starsky looked like when he wasn't running from his demons. She nodded, "You must be Hutch."

As the car surged forward off the edge of the bluff, the nose began to dip drastically, and Starsky began a serious fight to regain consciousness – a sense of urgency was building up in him even though he wasn't fully comprehending his surroundings. Suddenly, he was thrown roughly over the steering wheel As the movement recoiled him back into the driver's seat, he opened his eyes seeing fireworks of pain. His vision had nearly cleared when the car hit the surface of the water, once again throwing him around the emptied interior of the car like a rag-doll. He struck his cheek on the window handle, and gashed it open. His head once more painfully spinning, Starsky struggled to see through the windows of the car – what he saw nearly cost him all hope.

In the light from the bright full moon, Starsky realized he was trapped in a car that, while momentarily floating, would soon be sinking to the bottom of the lake. The car tilted down as the water began surging in through the broken windshield. The rushing, frigid water pinned him back and he began to panic. It was too fast!! He wasn't going to have enough air. Starsky fought to the top where a small pocket of air hovered and hungrily took in another breath. He had a brief respite, but he knew he had to act quickly if he was going to make it out. He looked frantically around the car, looking for a means of escape.

"Is he okay? Have you seen him today?" Hutch clenched Tonya's arm, startling her with his intensity.

Tonya grimaced at the pain and looked back at him defiantly, "He's fine. I saw him earlier tonight at dinnertime. We had a nice chat. He left around, oh I don't know, about 8, I expect."."

Hutch realized he still held Tonya's arm and released her with an embarrassed blush, "I'm sorry." He apologized. "I'm worried about him… He called me earlier today and sounded like he was in trouble. Do you have any idea what that's about?"

Tonya shook her head, "No. He told me about what happened back on the force, but he seemed to be fitting in around here okay. He even started working over at Mike's Garage… seemed like maybe he plans to stay for awhile."

Hutch's brain balked at that thought. _No way. But where was he?_ He asked urgently, "Do you know where he's staying or where I might find him? "

Tonya considered, "I think he's been staying down the street at the Greenleaf motel. Like I said, he has been working at Mike's Garage, but you won't find him there at this hour. He's probably at the hotel or down at Phil's- a local bar off Elm street."

Hutch managed a tight smile as he digested this information and turned toward the door, "Thanks for your help!"

He jogged down the stairs and quickly climbed in the car, heading toward the hotel Tonya had mentioned. But why then, wouldn't he have taken his bike?

Starsky searched frantically as he spied water also surging through the driver's side window, where Ox had cracked the window to help clear his head. Starsky didn't know when he first realized it was open, nor did he take the time to question how it got that way. His relief at the realization was uncontainable -- he could get out of here – he just had to wait a little longer!

Hutch rushed into the dingy front office of the old motel. . Flipping open his badge for the desk clerk, he demanded to know Starsky's room number. When the clerk told him, Hutch ran to the room. He didn't hesitate to bang on the door. No response. In a moment of fear and frustration, Hutch kicked the door in; he'd worry about paying damages later. The dark room was empty. Damn it! He wasn't here either. Hutch's sixth sense was growing stronger . He knew that his partner was in trouble.

Just a few more seconds, Starsky thought as the water from the lake washed over him. By now, the car was entirely submerged, but the water hadn't yet filled the interior. It was slowly creeping higher as he struggled to roll down the window further. He tried to calm his breathing, but the frigid temperature of the water caused him to breathe in short gasps considerably. Summoning all his strength, he gave the window knob another pull and finally it was enough. He could swim out!

Hutch stood outside Starsky's room, rubbing his forehead in consternation. Where could his partner be? It was too late for him to be at the garage. He recalled Tonya's comment about Phil's and headed back into the office to ask directions. Moments later he was on his way to the popular bar.

Starsky was seeing stars and knew that if he didn't break the surface within the next few moments, he was going to pass out and drown despite all his best efforts. It had taken more strength than he'd anticipated to swim out, and his body seemed to be weighted with lead as he tried to stroke his way to the surface. His clothing was now soaked with water and had doubled his weight. The additional poundage threatened to be his undoing. His lungs burned like nothing he'd ever felt before. His body was screaming with the need for oxygen, and still he couldn't tell how far from the surface he was. In its oxygen-deprived state, his mind threw out the terrifying thought -- what if he were swimming **down** or **sideways** rather than **up?!** It was solidly black here beneath the surface and it would have been quite easy to get confused. He gave an angry kick in defiance of the defeatist thought – he might have been willing to give up that easily a few days ago, but not now. Somewhere over the past few days, he'd made a few discoveries about himself, and he was not about to let those rednecks win **this **battle.

"Visualize your goal," one of Hutch's favorite themes sprang into Starsky's head and he grinned to himself. Another kick, another stroke….

"What can I get you?" the bartender at Phil's asked as Hutch stepped up to the bar.

Hutch pulled out the picture of Starsky, "I'm looking for a friend of mine. I heard he might be here."

With a glance at the picture the bartender nodded, "He's been here… not tonight, but I recognize him. He got in a fight in here a couple of days ago with one of the locals." He grinned at the memory of Ox hitting the floor, "I think he's working down at Mike's Garage. Maybe you can catch him there tomorrow."

"Thanks." Hutch's brow creased with concern as he stepped back outside into the cool night air.

AIR!! Beautiful, blessed, fully-oxygenated, cool, dry AIR!! Starsky was giddy with relief as he filled his lungs to capacity, still bobbing on the surface of the lake. He allowed himself a few moments to revel in the joy of breathing, and then looked around. Thank heavens there was a full moon – he was able to make out the shoreline about 200 yards away and using a heavily modified frog kick, he made his way in that direction.

Hutch sat in his car in the parking lot of the bar considering his options. Starsky wasn't at the hotel, or at the bar, and it was too late for him to be at the garage. . He bit his lip in frustration. Where should he start? The local police? Hutch discarded that thought. If Starsky had needed help, he would have gone to them first -- the fact that he called Hutch indicated it was something that couldn't be shared with local law enforcement.

Wiping his hand across his eyes, Hutch considered his options. With a sigh of resignation, he turned the key in the ignition and headed toward Mike's Garage. He'd check it out and then head back to the hotel to wait for his friend.

Starsky crawled up the shoreline. He was exhausted and longed to lay down in the pine needles that blanketed the ground for just a few minutes, but he knew he'd fall asleep and he needed to reach Hutch. He needed his partner to help him take these guys down. He could see a road just above him on the hill, and he crawled toward it. As he approached he saw the silver glow of the guardrail and stopped. He peered up the road. Which way to go? Something tugged at him to go south. With a weary sigh, he started a slow jog down the road.

As Hutch approached Mike's, he was surprised to see a glow of light coming from the fenced backyard of the garage. Instinct made him drive past, then turn down the next block and park along the side street, out of view of the garage. He climbed out of his car and checked his weapon. He wasn't sure what he was going to find in the garage, but something told him he'd better be prepared for anything.

His soft-soled shoes made no sound on the sidewalks as he approached the garage. He slipped through the parking lot only after making a careful check that there was no one watching, and carefully made his way over to the fence. It was made of corrugated metal, and there were no holes through which Hutch could observe what was happening on the other side. A stack of pallets lay next to the garage, and Hutch carefully scaled them just high enough to see over the barrier, looking down into the yard behind.

George and Eddie were carefully lifting the hood off of a Mercedes that was less than two years old. The hood ornament had already been removed, and Hutch recognized it lying on the workbench behind the car. The two front seats had also been removed and the hood joined them as the once-pristine vehicle was taken apart, piece by valuable piece. Truth was that while these cars were expensive to begin with, replacement parts were worth even more than the complete vehicle and the black market trade in car parts had been growing steadily over the past ten years. This must have been what Starsky had called him about, Hutch realized. He looked around, searching for any sign of his friend.

"I still can't believe Ox went along with us on this." The younger man said as he carefully pried one of the hubcaps from its wheel.

"Just be glad he did. If anything should go wrong, there's plenty of witnesses who'll say they saw the stranger humiliate him in front of his friends a couple of days ago – and good ole' Ox will take the fall for us." George's voice carried from the trunk where he was removing the full-sized spare.

The words turned Hutch's blood to ice in his veins. He didn't have any doubt that they were discussing something that had happened to Starsky. He needed to get closer – see how many opponents he might have. He checked the stability of his perch, and moved a step higher, and closer to the fence.

"Yeah, we really couldn't have planned that any better – Dave beating him up like that. It really is a shame that he turned out to be a cop. He would have made a GREAT crook!" the older man's voice continued and at his last comment, both men laughed.

Suddenly Hutch heard the sound of an engine as a car pulled into the garage parking lot. There was no time to abandon his perch, and Hutch had to settle for ducking down and trying to make himself as small as possible. As he did so, however, he dislodged a piece of the pallet stack, and it fell, making a noise that couldn't be missed. He lost his balance and fell a few feet, to his knees, still about halfway up the stack of wood.

As the headlights from the car raked over Hutch, George and Eddie rushed from behind the fence. Eddie held a pistol and aimed it immediately at Hutch as Ox clambered from his car.

"Who's that?!" Ox slurred, stumbling slightly as he stepped toward Hutch.

"I'm not sure -- but I think we should probably find out. What're you doing here, Ox? I thought we told you we'd see you tomorrow." George nodded at Eddie, who motioned with the pistol for Hutch to join them on terra firma.

Hutch reluctantly did as he was told, wishing he'd had time to pull his own weapon.

"I was jus' down a' Phil's an' thought ah'd drive by an' see if you needed me for anything else this evening… Looks like a good thing I did." Ox laughed at his own implied joke, and slumped against the fender of his car.

"Who are you?" Eddie demanded as Hutch's feet reached the ground.

"No one." Hutch answered, but George had already pulled Hutch's jacket open and with a whistle, removed Hutch's gun from its shoulder holster.

"Well, well, well… is there a **third** little pig around here somewhere?"

Now that the danger was passed, Starsky wasn't so sure that it wouldn't have been more comfortable to have simply drowned in the car. As he jogged along, his breath wheezed in his straining lungs and the muscles in his legs burned. He wasn't travelling at his quickest pace, but he'd been running in clothes that not only weighted him down unbearably, but were chilling and chafing him as well. His feet had blisters from squishing along in his water-logged sneakers, and his arms and legs felt as if they were wrapped in heavy swaths of wool. He contemplated removing some of the clothing, but decided against it. He wanted to lose no time in getting back to town – he had to call Hutch and get some help up here!

Hutch's eye was black and his lip was split where Ox had punched him at George's direction. His clothes were rumpled and his slacks torn. He was strapped to a straight-backed wooden chair in the very back of the garage, where no other passers-by might see him. Lingering on the fringe of consciousness, his blond head dropped to one side George and Eddie were close to panicking. Where had these cops come from? Had the sheriff called them in? Ratted them out? They couldn't be sure… and they weren't sure what to do next. This one hadn't talked any more than Starsky had, and it made them nervous. How were they to know if there were any others coming as backup?

"We've got to get out of here. We'll lock the place up and take a couple of weeks off. When it's cooled down, we'll come back and see where everything stands." Eddie said.

George shook his head, "They already know we're here. If we leave now, we've got to be prepared to run for the rest of our lives -- or at least never come back here."

"So what?! This stinkin' little town isn't worth losin' sleep over!" Eddie argued.

"It gave us a perfect hiding place, though, didn't it?" George countered angrily.

"We'll find another town! Places like this are a dime a dozen, George! We've got to go now! Either way -- if we let the cop go, he'll bring others…. If he disappears, they'll **send** others…. We've got to go!"

George nodded, he knew that Eddie was right. "What about Ox?" he asked quietly, nodding over at the large dupe, who now lazed in his alcohol-induced stupor against the wall by Hutch.

Eddie hesitated for a long moment, hardly daring to say what he was thinking. "I don't think we can take Ox with us. He's a nice guy, but I don't trust him to keep his mouth shut."

"What are you saying? Kill him?!" George was shocked at how quickly their perfect little world was crashing down around their ears.

Eddie turned George so that his voice wouldn't carry to Ox, though the larger man was probably too far gone to have heard, or understood, the words. "Look… we've already agreed that we can't come back here. We can make it look like an accident. We'll set the place on fire. We'll leave the two of them inside… even if the bodies are found, we'll be gone, and everyone will figure it was me and you that perished in the flames."

George considered the plan for a few moments, then nodded slowly. "But it's gotta be hot… it's gotta burn completely down so that there's no way they can ID the bodies."

Eddie nodded in relief. "We'll soak the place in gasoline… they'll figure it was just an accident at a garage."

The two men's eyes met for a long minute before George nodded, "Can you take care of Ox?"

Eddie nodded.

"Then let's do it."

Starsky nearly grinned as he realized that the road was sloping downward, making his last miles into town that little bit easier. "Boy," he thought, "I gotta start workin' out more… or drinkin' those nasty things Hutch is always trying to force on me." He looked up and was relieved to see the glow of the town's street lamps on the horizon. He'd make it… he just had to keep going for a little bit longer.

Ox had slumped down, asleep against the side of the garage. He never felt the pipe that struck him behind the ear and drove him from sleep into unconsciousness.

Hutch had awakened just enough to see the attack and realize that things were about to get distinctly worse for him very rapidly. He pretended to remain unconscious, and was rewarded by being ignored as the two mechanics carefully trailed gasoline in a random pattern around and through the large building.

"As soon as we light it, we've got to go. There's no time to go home to pack stuff. I cleaned out the register so we'll have some ready cash… should be enough to get us safely away to the border and settled somewhere for awhile." George had once more resumed the role of leader.

"We'll take that red Camaro. Nobody's seen it here so it won't be missed. I filled the tank so we won't need to stop until we're well away from any towns where we might be recognized." Eddie told him.

"Good. Grab that can over there." he pointed, "I'll take this one. This should finish it up – should be plenty to make a nice big funeral pyre."

Eddie chuckled and the two men set about pouring the last of the flammable liquid.

Hutch was nearly choking on the fumes, but knew that his only hope was for his captors to leave the building so he could try to escape before the flames reached him. It was a slim chance, but it was all he had. He heard the two make their way back to the front of the garage and a second later heard the "whoomp!" of the gasoline igniting as George tossed a match onto one of the fuel trails. He immediately began struggling against his bindings.

Starsky slowed to a walk as he approached the garage. Anger filled him and he longed to rush the place and exact his revenge on George and Eddie, but he knew that he was outnumbered, and that he'd just have to wait until he could speak to Hutch, and he could get there to help Starsky.

Starsky stopped -- staring in disbelief. There was Hutch's car!! Just out of view from the garage. He shook his head, surely this was an hallucination brought on by the distinct chills he was feeling, but no – he ran his hand over the dented and rusted fender, and peered inside at the ratty interior. It was Hutch's car! He must have gotten enough of the message through – and Hutch had come! But where was he?!

The flames were moving rapidly up and over the workbenches at the front of the garage, devouring the plastics, flammable liquids and wood that filled the area. Hutch had managed to topple his chair over against one of the wheeled tool chests, but it hadn't carried sufficient force to allow him to break the rest of the chair apart and free himself. He was struggling now against the toxic fumes and smoke as well as the encroaching flames. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, and panic was constraining his breathing further. Several cans of paint suddenly exploded and rocketed to the ceiling, hurling themselves through the roof as Hutch fought desperately against his bindings and time.

The sound of the explosion brought Starsky's attention to the garage. The flames were now tinting the sky with burnt orange, and he ran without thinking toward the site. No alarm had yet been raised, and the surrounding houses slept on in blissful oblivion. Something told him that Hutch was there – and he was surely in trouble. Starsky's sneakers slid in the gravel of the parking lot as he raced to the building. It was now fully engulfed and he knew that Hutch was somewhere inside. He ran toward the burning building and plunged inside.

"HUTCH!!" he shouted as he fought his way past falling timbers and crackling flames. The heat was intense and the metal building was beginning to sag. Starsky choked on the billowing smoke and struggled to see through tearing eyes. "HUTCH!!"

He saw a body near the window and ran toward it. He knew before he reached it that it wasn't Hutch, and the unnatural position of the body warned Starsky that he was probably already too late. Even as he recognized Ox, he also realized that there was no pulse and that the man who had so recently sought to kill him, had just been murdered himself.

He turned away without further delay and ran deeper into the building, "HUTCH!!"

Hutch lay semi-conscious on the floor. He could feel his skin tightening from the heat as the flames grew closer, rapidly encircling him. He'd lost the power to struggle any further as his body suffered from inhaling the noxious fumes… it was only a matter of waiting now, for the fiery beast to devour him. His mind was playing tricks on him… he could swear he heard Starsky calling for him.

"HUTCH!!" Starsky was choking harshly now, and the roar of the flames nearly drowned the sound of his voice as he stumbled through the destruction. He tripped and went down hard -- only to find himself face-to-face with his partner.

With a burst of strength he didn't think he had, Starsky was on his feet and lifting Hutch in a split second. There was no time to undo the bindings that held his partner fast, so Starsky carried him, chair and all, toward the back entrance to the garage. The door was surrounded by flames but Starsky didn't hesitate. Moving as quickly as possible with his unwieldy burden, Starsky plunged through the barrier and into the cool air. He staggered as far from the inferno as he could before collapsing on the ground, Hutch landing beside him with a grunt.

It took them several minutes of gasping for air before either fully regained consciousness. Starsky finally opened his eyes to find that Hutch had managed to maneuver himself free of the chair, though his arms were still tied. They grinned stupidly at each other for a long minute before Starsky croaked, "So…. How d'I look?"

Bloodied and battered, he looked like a ghoul, but after all they had been through, Hutch thought that he was the best sight. Yet he determinedly teased, "Beautiful if you're in a contest for fright night movie of the week".

Their laughter however was interrupted suddenly with the sound of boots crunching on the gravel. Starsky looked up to see the crooked sheriff Crawford approaching them gun in hand with a smirk on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A disgruntled employee that burned down his place of employment and got killed while being arrested? Tsk, tsk" Crawford sarcastically shook his head as he gestured for the two men to get up.

Hutch raised a questioning eyebrow towards Starsky who nodded for him to go along with it. As they scrambled to their feet, Starsky warned, "Forget it, Crawford. It's not going to work. You kill two cops and your going to have more heat than that inferno. Your badge isn't going to shield you from that"

Crawford sneered, "I wouldn't be so sure, Detective Starsky. For a man who has been in Carter awhile, you sure don't understand how things operate here. I am the law. Who's going to challenge me? You'll be dead. And as for your friend here, well I think that he might be ready for that friendly tour of Moon Lake. Only he might be staying there a bit longer than you did."

He paused as he then mimicked, "I'm sorry Captain. Your man must have gone off the deep end. He was clearly seen starting the fire. And, I'm also sorry to say, we have found no other evidence that your other man ever made it to Carter".

At the look that crossed over Starsky's and Hutch's faces, Crawford could no longer contain his amusement and broke into cruel, mocking laugh.

In that instant, all of the fear and frustration that Starsky had been carrying around with him ignited into a pure rage. Without thought or hesitation, he lunged towards the sheriff, heedless of the deadly gun. The speed and ferociousness of the attack took Crawford by surprise and as he tried to pull the trigger, he soon found himself in a determined struggle for control of the gun. Hutch circled around trying to help his partner, but uncertain as to how to intercede without risking both of their lives with the errant gun.

With the strength born of fury, Starsky had soon wrested the gun and flung the man to the ground. Several punches rained down until Hutch grabbed his arm and soothed, "Easy, there, he's under control. Let's get him wrapped up and some others to clean this place up, kay?"

Starsky looked up at Hutch, then back down at the man who was completely cowed. With a brusque nod, he pulled himself back allowing Hutch to handcuff Crawford with his own cuffs. As the adrenaline eased, Starsky felt the free fall of exhaustion descend and he sank back on the ground listening to raucous sounds of the local fire trucks as the commotion began to build with the arrival of the local rescue workers.

Hutch glanced over at his partner, his own breath still gasping as he recovered from the surge of adrenaline of the flight and the fight.

"You still with me buddy?"

Starsky nodded as he smiled wanly, "You bet. Just give me a few minutes".

"Sure thing. I'll let the officials here know what went down and get an APB out on our good friends George and Eddie. Anyone else you know of?" asked Hutch

Starsky slowly gathered his thoughts as he replied, "Yeah, some guy named Randy was in on all the fun. Don't know his last name, but I'm sure the locals can tell us which Randy hung around with these turkeys"

Hutch nodded in an acknowledgement and rested his hand briefly on his partner's shoulder as he directed him, "You stay put. I'll get this all sorted out"

Starsky allowed himself to fall back in the cool grass. He couldn't remember when he felt so tired. His eyes closed, he let his body relax as he continued to tremble from the shock of the heat and cold and the adrenaline. As he sunk back, though, he felt a peace and gratitude that his partner, his friend was here.. He could hear Hutch talking with the other officials on the scene.

In the quiet peace of his mind, surrounded by the blare of activity around him, Starsky realized he was where he belonged. Starsky realized that Starsky the street cop, his friendship with Hutch, each piece was a bit of the puzzle that made him who he was. And he liked that. Knowing that he could make a difference and that he could trust others. Starsky knew now that fear was a part of that puzzle too, but it didn't have to break up the whole picture. He could trust himself to feel the fear and not feed it. He understood now what Hutch meant.

"Starsky?" prompted the familiar voice.

Starsky opened his eyes to see is partner kneeling next to him. He glanced at him reassuringly.

Hutch teased him gently, "Hey, everythings been taken care of. We just need to get you checked out – you're a mess!"

"What about you? You're not exactly Mr. Clean right now!" jibed Starsky back. The easy banter did more to heal his physical hurts than any administrations.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure we both make a pair" laughed Hutch. He quickly sobered as he realized what he said. A pair. Was his partner willing to come back? With all the events that they had been through, he had forgotten momentarily what had brought them into this situation. What if Starsky still wouldn't listen to him? He searched Starsky's face anxiously. Then Hutch reached in and pulled out a gun and a well-worn leather case. He offered it tenuously to Starsky as he explained, "I had to get these from my car to show the officials here. George and Eddie took mine. What do you want me to do with them?"

Starsky gazed at the gun and badge in Hutch's hands and then back at his partner's face. Taking a deep breath, he reached for them as he replied, "I want them back with me, where they belong. Besides, I want to see how you explain to Dobey how you once again lost your badge!"

Starsky then continued more hesitantly, "Question is – do you want me back?"

Hutch shook his head, slightly exasperated with his partner, "Of course I do, ya big lug"

The two men then broke into a big smile and silently reconfirmed their partnership.

The emotions of the moment were broken as the paramedics approached the injured men to tend to them. Starsky and Hutch allowed themselves to be ministered to, finally noticing their physical wounds as the emotional ones healed.

The week back had flown by. Starsky sat at his desk, happily munching on the latest junk food that he had brought in. Nothing like a mid-afternoon snack. Besides, they had been working hard. After Randy had been brought in and found out that the little racket had escalated to murder with George and Eddie leaving him to hold the bag, he had sang like the proverbial canary. George and Eddie had also been caught before they got to Mexico and were now also behind bars. The auto-theft ring had been pretty wide, extending all the way down to Bay City. They had fun with these arrests and convictions. Since Starsky had been the one to break open the case, Dobey had even gotten his extended leave covered as an undercover special assignment so Starsky hadn't lost any pay. Heck, he might even get a commendation for it all.

Hutch glanced over at his partner who sat with a blissful smile plastered over his face and inquired, "Hey, want to let me in on the joke? What's making you so happy? Not enough paperwork?"

Starsky sat listening to the familiar hub-bub of the department as he cheerfully replied, "Nothing special. It's just good to be back"

Hutch nodded in agreement. It was nice to have things back to normal. He picked up the mail from his desk. Most of it was routine, but a white envelope was handwritten to Starsky. Post-mark was from Crater, CA.

"Starsky, look's like there something here for you" notified Hutch as he tossed over the envelope. He sat curiously waiting, wondering what could have been sent to Starsky.

Starsky sat up and looked at the envelope, then a bright smile lit his face. He began to happily open the letter as he let Hutch know, "Its from Tonya, the waitress. Remember? I told you all about her".

"Oh yeah. What did she send to you?"

Starsky pulled out the paper from the envelope. It was a newspaper clipping on which Tonya had stuck a note, " Dave, thought you might like to read this. It was nice getting to know you. Remember you have a friend in Carter! Love, Tonya"

He then unfolded the clipping. The newspaper headlines of the Crater Chronicles read "Murder and Theft in Crater! Local Auto Theft Ring Broken by Undercover Agents". The lengthy story was accompanied by a photo of the two detectives in front of the paramedics' wagon. Starsky was seated on the open end while Hutch was off to the side. The caption indicated though that it was Hutch seated and Starsky standing.

Hutch who had moved to read the article over his partner's shoulder began to laugh as Starsky spluttered, "They mixed us up! I'm seated, you're standing!"

The indignant look on Starsky's face amused Hutch as he reminded Starsky, "Hey what do you expect? After all, we are talking about Crater here – the land of the mixed-up names!"

"Yeah, well, it's not even a good likeness of you!" grumbled Starsky good-naturedly as the two men laughed and continued to read about their exploits.

The end


End file.
